


Transfusion

by Willowanderer



Series: Bleeding Out [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional, F/M, Gen, M/M, Violence, possible spoilers for ACIII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:55:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Bleeding Out, Desmond discovered he wasn't as crazy as he thought- his ancestors had returned from the dead but only he could see them or touch them. </p><p>Sanity is relative.</p><p>Desmond felt saner when the relatives he had around were a little more distant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Man is an Animus Island

When Desmond woke up, he thought he was in hell.

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there, but that was the only explanation. The ocean, was dark, and looked as though it should be cold, but it felt like nothing at all, pulling at his feet, the sand gritty and hard under his cheek. When he rolled over, his hands sunk in like nothing he'd ever experienced.

“I'm in hell.” he said, staring at the sky, which was shot with a web of white light. “I'm in hell, and it looks like the animus.”

 

“Correction. You _wish_ you were in hell.” That voice sounded familiar. “If you were in hell, that would mean you were dead, and you could rest.” He didn't see whose hands were helping him to his feet sand filling his wet sneakers, digging into his socks, but they sounded familiar. Felt familiar, somehow. Between him and the stark island covered in shimmering spires was … a fairly ordinary looking guy. Someone he could have served shots and beers to. Someone he could have passed on any street in America.

“Sixteen?”

“Seventeen?” he said back with a distinctly mocking tone. “We're more than numbers here- unless... you never knew my name.”

“It didn't... come up.”

“Right then, Desmond Miles, the name is Clay Kaczmarek.” He put out his hand. “We're acquainted I think.” Desmond shook his hand anyway, somehow distressed that wherever he was, he was unarmed. How could he have gotten used to the weight of the hidden blade so fast? And more importantly

“But you're dead.”

“No? Really? However will I survive? Oh _right_ the same way you are right now.” He gestured to the island. “By hiding in the heart of the animus. You've lived a lifetime inside anyway. Longer than you've spent in your own skin.”

“So am I dead or aren't I? Because if I'm dead, I want to have less of a headache.” Desmond rubbed his temple. “And not to feel like I was just run through the dryer with a bunch of rocks.”

“Not dead. Because someone up there.” he pointed at the sky. “Likes you, and they got you plugged into the physical animus, which is keeping your body functioning enough that even though your brain has gone walk about, if you get back to it, you'll be golden. And hey, what a coincidence;” he spread his hands and wiggled the fingers in a little dance. “That machine is exactly where your brain has gone.”

Desmond worked his jaw for a moment.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“More of an Ezio than an Altaïr then.”

“No, you're just really obscure and confusing. Though not insane, which is nice.”

“What a ringing endorsement.”

“Well I can take back that last part.”

“Follow me.” He turned and walked down the beach towards the rocky center and the strange spires. Desmond followed, because it beat staring into the ocean.

“Something went wrong.” Clay said, stating the obvious. “When you fought back against the Apple's grip. You burned out part of your brain- probably not a part you use a lot, but its complex machinery. Your body went into shock, then a coma. When the Assassins arrived, they plugged you back into the animus, because it's designed to keep the body functioning while the brain is on walkabout, more or less. Little electronic pulses always coursing through your body, stimulating muscles.”

“What?”

“You didn't know?” He rolled his eyes, and his entire form flickered, like it was loading and reloading. “What am I saying of course you didn't. You never asked, did you? It was just a magic machine that put you into memories. Let me ask you- if that was all it was, how did I manage to hide memories in it?”

“But Lucy took a hardrive with her-” Clay spoke over him like he wasn't even talking.

“And since each of us has our own unique link to out ancestors, I could hardly be writing them in the memories themselves. This is what's beneath the memories. The core of the animus, what connects it to the Akashic memory- what scientists call the DNA memory. I don't know, they both sound pretty stupid.”

Desmond had to agree, but he didn't say anything, waiting to see where this was going. Where they were going was a door that blazed white.

“And that is the core. Through it, you can get out. Get back into your body. Live your life again, while there's life in your body to do it. You have to; or your mind will break. You'll fragment.”

“Like yours?”

“I shattered under pressure.” He frowned. “I'm not like you. You managed to keep yourself seprate. Me... all the memories, scraps and bits, just kept impressing themselves over my mind, like drawing something and erasing it, over and over and over. Then I shattered, and broke myself on the way out. The first time-”

“the first time?”

“I had a seizure. They plugged me back in, and I clawed my way out sorting the broken pieces into piles- Clay and not Clay. Women, men, assassins, civilians. Rapists, victims.” he glitched breaking up into static and reappearing a few feet away. “I came out, and they put me back in, and all the piles started to fuse into a mass I couldn’t' sort any more, no matter how many notes I took. I took myself out.” He shook his head, and pointed again. “So you go in there, you finish living the life you've made part of yourself, and then you can move on, and go back to yourself. But you've only got so long before the animus can't keep you alive any more.”

“Finish the- go back to Ezio? I can find him again?”

“The memories are still there, this is still the animus.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“No one deserves to be stuck here. This is a crappy afterlife.” He frowned. “... and it's a thank you.”

“What?”

“You were holding steady. You probably could have come out the other end okay; what broke you was fighting the trap in the Apple. Not killing Lucy.”

“I couldn't... she...” Desmond frowned. “She was special. I wanted to...”

“It's not just a bra you know. Her breasts are _fabulous._ ” He grinned “It would be a pity to ruin one of the sets of perfect breasts in the world.”

“How?” he was trying not to picture it now.

“She's an assassin. She was under cover a long time, but she was.”

“and?”

“So was I.”

Before he could respond to that he heard echoes- Lucy's voice. Shaun's. Rebecca's. And Another- almost as familiar that made his spine stiffen, but he couldn't quite place.

“You'd better hurry up.” Clay nodded to the door. “They won't unplug you, but it'll only keep you alive so long.”

Desmond turned to go then looked back around, Clay was gone.

“Did you?” he asked thin air, since he'd gotten used to talking outloud. “Did you see them? Did you know them?”

“No.” He didn't jerk in surprise at the figure suddenly in his personal space. Except for the occasional ripple in his skin, it was like Altaïr and Ezio had appeared. “You're special, Desmond. You may not realize it, or _deserve_ it, but you are. Don't waste it.” And he was gone again.

 

Desmond turned and walked into the light.

 

It _hurt_ to see Ezio. That surprised him. This wasn't the Ezio he'd gotten to know, this one was old, and tired, and accepting that he was slowing down. But on the other hand, he knew that Ezio would find that woman; his wife. That small glimpse that Ezio had given him gave him hope, and let him keep pushing, trying to find his way out of this maze of memories to a place where he could escape from the animus- from his own mind. But that was nothing compared to the pain and shock of the memories of Altaïr. He lost everything. His best friend, his son, his wife, his order and brothers. Betrayal by someone he should trust. After the first memory, Desmond tore himself away, and fled back to the stark abandoned island that was the core.

 

Desmond sat on the cold beach and listened to the echoes of voices outside his head. The ghosts of memories seemed more real. He wondered about the core of red that had flicked in the middle of Lucy's soothing blue. She'd never been red before; not even when his Eagle Vision had first come out of the animus with him. And for all he'd known she had been his enemy, his warden, his torturer's assistant. But something in him wanted to trust her; and he had, following her and letting her rescue him, when he'd been unable to do anything to rescue himself.

 

Then in the weeks that followed, she'd been slightly distant, but his mentor, helping him to understand the lessons his ancestors taught him, teaching him. She was, frankly, the face of modern assassins to him. The kind that he'd like to know. His eyes closed, and he found himself wandering the paths of his own memories, scraps of childhood thrown up like pictures from a projector at the wall. None of it was worth living the first time, let alone reliving.

 

At the Farm, it was more like 'Nothing is explained, and even less is permitted.' rules and fear and none of it made sense to a kid. The Templars were boogymen to get children to behave; 'if you aren’t' good then the Templars won't just get you, they'll get the world' He hadn't even heard the central tenet until he was grown and had already tried to escape. If he'd heard it, if he'd understood it, not just paranoia and preparation, would he have been so eager to flee? If he hadn't fled; who would have gone into the animus instead of him? Would they have found him anyway, or would he have been a good enough assassin to avoid being captured? He shook off the maze of his own memories and was back on the cliff above the beach. Turning, Desmond looked back at the wreckage, and sat down.

He'd burned himself out- his ancestors and looking at it from this side, he was sure they were real, though he had no idea how- had burned themselves out to help him- to save Lucy, and the last thing he'd said to her- was an accusation. God. How could he have done that? Becca had said that a lot of them were concerned after her long stint undercover. So why why for that instant had he been so sure?

  
“Was it _her?”_

“Who her?” He looked over at Clay who'd reappeared beside him on the virtual driftwood.

“Juno. I thought I saw... that Lucy was a threat, but I still couldn't kill her. What if it was Juno the one who came before- what if she was manipulating me?”

“Well that's not really that surprising. Because they come across as so trustworthy.”

“But what about the disaster, the solar flare?”

“Well, it doesn't matter too much to _me_ , given that I'm dead already.” Clay pointed out. “but you can either trust her, and follow what she tells you; in which case Lucy should be dead. Or learn more and make your own choice.”

“... 'where other men blindly follow...'”

“what?”

Desmond stood up and brushed himself off.

“You're right. I'm not going to learn anything out here- and not getting any closer to getting out. Thanks.”

“Don't mention it.” the voice glitched out, and he heard echoes of a conversation as he ran back into the core. They were heading back to America. Clearly, the Assassins were better of than Vidic had thought, even if they were on the defensive.

After all, if Ezio taught him nothing else; it was that Assassins always were.

“C'mon Ezio...” He muttered as he plunged back into Constantinople. “Show me what you've got.”

 

He wrapped himself in the form of the old, weary Ezio. It didn't feel natural, but it didn't need to as long as he could synch himself. When he took the time to get flowers for Sofia, Desmond shifted the memory enough to take the time to pick an enormous bouquet- a thanks for the knowledge that remembering her would still make Ezio warm hundreds of years later- that she would bring him happiness, and some of them were for Ezio, like putting flowers on a grave.

 

He didn't want to mourn people who had been dead hundreds of years. He didn't want to be there any more.

 

“Are you crying, seriously crying?” Clay sounded boggled. “Over memories?”

“I'm not asking you to understand.” He was trying to stop at any rate. These tears were his, not anyone elses', but it was hardly the time.

“Well good because I don't. If you sit around crying over this you won't have a future. I should try and force my way out, and take your body.”

“You could do that?”

“Sure why not!?” Clay flung his hands up. “I'm a mind without a body, and right now your body doesn't have a mind because you're here, crying over dead men you never really met. And yet you live, and get another chance to go on, conditioning to waste your potential, and I _died.”_ Clay looked- angry, and frustrated, and tired, the emotions kept flickering across his face.

Perhaps it was wrong, but Desmond thought back to his ancestors- what would they do. Ezio flashed to mind, and he put his arm around Clay's shoulder, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Whoa.” Clay glitched and reappeared several feet away hands up “No Homo, kiddo.”

“Actually a little bit of homo, yeah” Desmond frowned. “but not the point. Anyhow you just said you wanted my body.”

“Not what I meant. I thought we had a kind of bonding moment over Lucy's boobs.”

“They are pretty fabulous.” Desmond admitted. “But not really what attracted me to her.”

“It's a good place to start though.”

Desmond shrugged. Breasts had gotten in him in more trouble than dick ever had. Well, except for his dick. And Ezio's. If he averaged it across the three lifetimes, it was probably about even.

Suddenly the ground started to shake, like an earthquake.

“What's going on?”

“It's reached critical mass- you must have unlocked all the memories. The Animus is rebooting- you have to go now.” The light in the portal was different, more inviting somehow.

“what will happen to you?”

“I'm leftover data. maybe I'll finally be dead all the way. Who knows.” He gave Desmond a shove towards the nexus.

“Clay... come with me.”

“What?” Desmond locked his arms around the figment and walked backwards, towards the gate. “I can't leave you here.”

“This is a really bad id-”

 

The light blazed, and it hut Desmond's eyes as they opened.

“Desmond.”

“Ugh.” he turned away- of all the faces he wanted to see when he woke up that was not one of them.

“Son-”

“No.” His arms felt heavy, but he held a hand up. “Just no Dad. Not now.” a decade was not enough time to make him want to see his father. Desmond sat up, and was relived to see Shaun and Rebecca, both looking ecstatic to see him awake, and Lucy- behind the partition and driving, looking tired as he felt. The van stopped.

“The apple?”

“Here.” William Miles didn't touch it with his bare skin, but he offered it to Desmond, who picked it up without thinking. It stung against his palm, and moving it from one hand to the other, he saw that his palm had a burn in the shape of the seams. He fit it back in place, and light shimmered in the cracks.

“I know where we need to go.”

“I hope you do.” Glancing up, he saw Clay sitting beside Lucy in the seat of the truck. “Or I won't let you forget it.”

Desmond smiled a killer's grin.


	2. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers and canon deviations abound.

Looking at himself, he looked ill, wasted, sick. The time he'd spent comatose and the burn of the apple had taken a toll on him. There were bags under his eyes, and he felt strung out. He'd lost muscle quickly, and there was no fat at all anywhere on him. And worst of all, he could barely see his ancestors in his face any more. He ran his thumb over the scar on his mouth. It was still there, and it wouldn't go away. They were still linked.

 

“Are you done with your pretty princess time?” Clay asked.  
“Do you have a hot shower in your pocket?” Desmond growled. “Until I get a clean shirt and a hot shower, my pretty princess time will never be complete.” He didn't think it was likely. He'd had maybe one hot shower since the first hideout. The would might end before he got a good hot shower.

“I don't have anything in my pockets. Maybe because I don't actually have pockets.” Clay glitched, and in the real world, it made Desmond's eyes hurt, but he was then on the other side of him.

“I was not expecting this; What am I? Am I a ghost? And I a hallucination you're having?”

“Hey in all honesty, I thought you'd just... I don't know be a voice in my head.”

“Big improvement to a ghost in a machine.” Desmond waved him off. It had been an impulse decision and he was regretting it already. He walked around the truck to find the others unloading boxes. They would make their new base here.

 

“Remember-” William was telling Shaun and Rebecca. “She doesn't go anywhere alone. Someone is always with her. And Desmond does not count.”

“When has he ever?” Desmond asked, leaning against the side. William gave an exasperated sigh, and picked up one of the boxes.

“Lead the way.”

“Should I?” he gestured to the other boxes.

“let's find where we're going first, shall we?” Shaun suggested.

What he didn't say was that he wasn't sure if Desmond could carry a box and stand at the same time. He looked steady enough on his feet; but he'd been in a coma long enough to risk serious brain damage- not to mention what had driven him into it. He should be in a hospital, recovering; but they hardly had time for that. Watching Desmond waste away in his coma had been distressing.

“Right.”

 

from the outside the cave looked unimpressive, the inside was less so, scattered with the debris of teens without supervision, bottles, cans, used condoms, forgotten clothes, and spray paint cans. The wall was daubed with charcoal and graffiti, but beneath that.... Desmond touched the wall, and nodded to himself, glancing back at the others. He didn't know how but he knew this was where he was supposed to be, and what to do next. Desmond scooped a bird's nest out of a hollow which someone had turned into part of their graffiti, and pressed the Apple into it. The surface glimmered, and what looked like a solid rock wall grated upwards. Not far, but far enough. Beyond it was dark and dim but the air didn't smell bad, which was something.

“In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.” Muttered Shaun nervously.

Desmond looked back at him pocketing the Apple again.

“Don't worry Alice.” he said “All you have to do is wake up.” He ducked under the wall, and descended into the cave, hearing the scrape of their boots behind him. For a while, the cave looked fairly normal, and natural, for all that it had been hidden behind a sealed wall. Desmond carried a chemical light, illuminating the path and leading the way.

 

The next wall opened up to a steep drop and he lost hold of the light in his battle to stay on his feet- but within this cave, there was a faint light from somewhere inside it. His chest clenched.

“This feels like a trap.” Clay muttered, glitching into existence and shedding a bit more light as Desmond moved forward. They were taking the slope slower, Lucy and William arguing about securing a rope first. Rebecca was giving reasons, and then they were out of earshot. The cavern was massive.

“Something feels... a little bit like a computer?” Clay sounded confused, as Desmond found the source of the light. It looked like modern art and was lying on the floor. A nearby hole looked like it would house it, and Desmond did what any inquisitive mind would do in that situation. He put it in the hole. The dim glow brightened, the wall glowed, and behind him, his team- and his father followed him in

“This is it.” Desmond said, not even really sure who he was talking to. “This is what we're here for.” The light seemed to be finding itself a steady level, but white flickered at the edge of his vision.

“Son?” It was William's voice but when he turned, it wasn't him, it was no one he recognized, painted onto the world in shades of ghostly white and gray. The Bleeding Effect.

“Oh hell.” Desmond's eyes rolled back in his head, and he started to topple. “Not this again....”

“Desmond!” he could hear them, but he wasn't there... where was he? One moment he was in Damascus, the next, Venice. He wasn't moving- was the world moving around him?

“I'm Desmond.” He said, sounding a little unsure. “My name is Desmond Miles. I'm a bartender. I'm an Assassin.” That felt true. Everything else- less so. It was a strange feeling, being there, but not there. He could feel hands on him, and vaguely feel the stone floor under him. “My name is... _my name is Ezio Auditore De Ferinze. I am an Assassin_ ” That felt true too. “ _<_ My name is Altair Ibn La'Ahad. I am an Assassin. _>_ ” He tried, and that felt true as well. But... nothing was true. He drew in another breath. “... My name is Haytham Kenway, and I have an appointment to keep.” His back stiffened, and he fell into whiteness.

 

He was walking along a street that looked familiar, but he knew he'd never been there before.

“Sir, Do you have your invitation?”

“Of course.”

“Good, you'll need it to get in, and he'll be waiting for you inside.”

There were sounds that didn't belong in the scene, scrapes and shouts that didn't come from the stinking city street he was on. He was... Des- he was Haytham. No. He was Desmond Miles, and people were talking about him.

 

“Oh because it's been such a giant help so far for him.”

“Your opinion wasn't asked for Miss Stillman.”

“It's up- he's in.”

 

The world fragmented into white and Desmond was in a featureless room- he walked a few steps, and he was himself again, instead of the heavy linen and wool of the British colonial clothing.

“Desmond? Can you hear us?”

“And I'm back in the animus. Great.”

“It seemed like the best choice.”

“I was already _in_ my ancestor's memories.” he told them. “This pulled me out.”

“Huh. Do you think prolonged exposure has rewired his brain so he can get in touch with his genetic memories without outside interference?”

“Well, Becca, that would explain a lot.” Shaun sounded out of breath. But that wasn't surprising; if they'd brought him to the animus, or the animus to him, they'd done it pretty quickly.

“Well, it's all very well and good if you can see memories now without the animus. But _we_ can't.” William said “So we're going to keep using the animus so we can see what you can.”

“That actually makes sense, thanks for explaining. For once.”

“Now is hardly the time for this kind of talk.”

“When is?” Desmond sighed, somewhat resigned. Rebecca walked him through a few changes that had been made. He didn't have the heart to tell her he knew the animus from the inside out at this point.

 

Desmond kind of liked Haytham.- he could identify with him and his dry British humor reminded him of Shaun. He cared about the people around him, the people he worked with, and even seemed to be making an effort not to kill people if at all possible. He was the kind of guy Desmond would kind of like to hang out with. He was, despite the danger, looking forward to getting to know him better.

That made the revelation all the more shocking and horrifying.

 

Haytham Kenway wasn't an Assassin, like his other ancestors. He was a Templar.

 

“You all saw that, right?” Desmond demanded; he realized he didn't have to ask, since they were all staring at him with similar shocked expressions- well, except William who just looked resigned. Had he known?

“We don't have time for this. We need to find the key. Just knowing what it looks like isn't enough. Desmond, you have to keep going.”

“Hey _Dad_ , he's your ancestor too, why don't you hop in?” Desmond demanded. William scoffed.

“Oh really, that's your response? It's like dealing with a child. What is wrong with you?”

Desmond put some distance between himself and the Animus, half afraid that he'd be bodily forced into it. His stomach was churning from the recent discovery. What was wrong with him- hell, where would he begin? But that wasn't what he was being asked he was being asked why he wasn’t thoughtlessly obeying.

“What's wrong? You really want to know? You're treating me like I'm not here, like I'm a piece of the machine. 'Get in the Anmius' 'run the maze' 'do what I say' 'find the answers for us' 'give up everything for nothing, it'll all make sense in the end' 'trust us, while we turn your brain into fucking swiss cheese.' but who's trusting me? Who's actually asking for my input, beyond a cog in your damn machine? I'm sick of being a pawn. I thought it might be different now, but no. No wonder you don't give a shit. You're no better than the fucking Templars.”

 

The blow up was inevitable, really. He should have seen the blow coming but despite the fact he knew that William was an Assassin as well- a master- he couldn't see anything but a coward at that moment. The punch knocked him off his feet, in his weakened state. Inside him he could feel the parts that were most like his ancestors blaze. Altair thirsty for blood, and Ezio shocked that a father could ever strike his son like that.

“Don't you ever equate me to those bastards again. _Never._ Everything, I do, everything I've done, has been for you.” William's face was red and angry- more emotion than Desmond could remember seeing in ages.

Rebecca helped Desmond to his feet, trying to look him in the eye- to check for concussion, Lucy was coming up behind William hands raised, fingers spread in a placating gesture.

“Bill-” she started. “I don't think-”

“Maybe I pushed too hard. Asked too much. But this isn't about you- not just you- remember what's at stake here. You need to get it together, _kid_. We don't have time-” he jabbed a finger into Desmond's chest, and Rebecca clung to his arm as Desmond's arm twitched back to strike in retaliation.

“Riiight-” Shaun inserted himself between the warring Miles, separating them with a gentle push and staying between them, focused on Desmond. “Well, that was interesting, I'm just going to pretend this never happened and do what I do- bringing everyone up to speed on where we stand on everything that isn't inside Desmond's head.” He turned his back on Bill and kept a hand resting gently on Desmond's shoulder. William took a step back to get Lucy into his line of sight, still looking shaken.

Desmond realized that they cared, Rebecca, and Shaun and Lucy. They weren't William's team- they were _his_. It helped him calm down. He didn't want the world to be burned to charcoal. He wanted to help- he just didn't want to be used.

“I'm afraid it's not good, though.” Shaun gestured around the dimly lit cave. “From what I can tell, this Temple is powered by several.. well, I guess they're batteries, that's the closest thing- the thing you found on your way in. But it needs more, and there aren't any more. At least not right here.”

“And we need them?” Lucy asked. Desmond extracted himself from Becca and took a few more steps away from William.

“Any idea where we can find replacements?” he asked, and ignored the look his father gave him.

“Not yet.” He gave a head shake. “So I'm going to do what I am good at- I intend to tiptoe into the Abstergo database. They love precursor artifacts. If I can cross reference these artifacts- devices really- with their database of them, we might just get lucky.” He had that smug expression on his face, and Desmond realized on a certain level they were all being pushed along by events; not just him.

“See what you can do.” William said in the tone of an order. Shaun barely contained rolling his eyes and snorted.

“Obviously. Anyway, Desmond- you could take a look around here for some if you're not ready to head back into the Animus.”

Desmond nodded, and Shaun gave him a pat on the upper arm before heading back to his computers.

William threw up his hands at this perceived babying, but also turned away to review their information, and presumably use his own console to do whatever it was he did normally.

Desmond swayed on his feet for a moment, blinking, and rubbing his jaw. In between blinks the world faded in and out of focus, surrounding him with flashes of the lives he'd lived before. Benjaman Franklin talked with his hands, though his words were lost to history, making gestures that were fairly obviously related to female anatomy.

“Desmond?” Lucy touched his shoulder and he smiled at her, or tried to. He didn't think the expression was great. He felt his eyes dipping down, between Clay's comments and Fanklin's gestures, he would have had to be superhuman not to- besides, they were fabulous breasts- and rubbed his eyes with one hand- hopefully before she noticed.

“I'm gong to go looking.” he said. “Get my head together; just for a bit. Then I'll go back in.”

“You shouldn't go spelunking alone; I'll go with you”  
“No.” Said Bill firmly, not turning. “You stay here, Miss Stillman.”

Desmond made a face at his father's back, and took a chemical light, moving out of the light cast by the glowing wall.

 

There wasn't much more to see, if he was careful. And he tried to be. He kept thinking he saw the figure of Juno out of the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned to look at her; she was gone.

 

“Hello, Desmond.”

He almost fell over when Clay glitched into existence.

“So where have you been?”

“Exploring. Pretty safe to do when you don't have a body.” Clay laughed at himself. “I tried throwing myself down a hole, and just ended up back on the edge. It felt like desynching though. Like the real world is an Animus now.”

“Maybe you should try hacking it.” Desmond suggested.

Clay snorted with laughter, then stopped.

“That's not a bad idea.” he said after a long moment. “This entire place feels different than the outside anyway. This shit may look like magic but what's magic but a sufficiently advanced technology, right?”

“I guess...”

“Des?”

Desmond looked up to see his privacy invaded by Shaun, who had a wrapped sandwich and a bottle of water in his hand. He was probably going to try to make him eat.

“Who are you talking to?” Shaun asked. Then his face brightened a touch. “Are they back?”

“Uh-” Clay shook his head hard, making a viscous cutting motion, and disappeared. “No...habit I guess. Trying to call them back. I mean, they were already dead, right? Maybe they just... need to find their way back.” Shaun put his hand on Desmond's shoulder, then after a moment of thought, put his arm around him.

“I'm sorry.” he offered.

“I'm... adjusting.” Desmond said cautiously.

“What about that bleeding?”

“Well, it's a little more everything. Like entering the animus, only I'm not in it.” He tipped his head. “You were hoping they'd come back, because then...”

“Because maybe then you wouldn't just fade out. It's bloody disturbing is what it is.” Shaun admitted.

“Pretty disturbing from this end.” Desmond admitted.

“I'd bet.”

“Shaun?”

“Yes?”

“What's up with Lucy?” Something didn't seem quiet right about how she was acting, since the temple.

“... How much do you remember from Juno's temple?” Shaun asked cautiously. “I mean, _after_ you touched the Apple?”

“What did it look like to you?”

“Well, to me it looked like you picked up the apple then teleported to standing in front of Lucy- then fell over. When we tried to help you up, you called for Altair and Ezio, like a lost child calling for his parents, I might add- then grabbed a hold of Lucy's jacket and babbled something about colors and crosses. Of course, we haven't had much of a chance to chat since. Hence my asking now.”

“Juno was talking to me- it felt like the world froze, or I was moving faster than everyone else. She took control of my body- she was going to make me kill Lucy. Said something about a gate or a door, and that Lucy would go through with me but she couldn't see her. Something about The Shadow of the cross.”

“That’s a pretty Templar laden innuendo.”

“Yeah.” Desmond sighed. “The thing is- something had felt off anyway- it wasn't just that she was uncomfortable with the whole situation with Altair and Ezio- something was bothering her, pulling her away from you and Becca too.” He frowned. “You don't seem surprised.”

Shaun frowned. “There's some.. .evidence that Lucy still has ties to Abstergo. To the Templars. I don't know what to belive, but it's strong enough that a lot of Assassins are uncomfortable with her being here. At all. Some seem uncomfortable with her _breathing._ She was undercover a long time.” He frowned a little. “When we were carrying you out; you said she was 'red' and Lucy told us to ignore it; that you were delirious, and in shock and didn't know what you were saying. Since you fell into a coma pretty quickly after that; I never question it. Was that a reference to the eagle vision?”

“Yes.”

“You used it on her?”

“It's...” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “soothing sometimes. To reduce things to black and white. And I can see other things with it, like the numbers.”

“What color am I?” it sounded like academic interest; something Shaun had in spades. Desmond blinked.

“Blue. It's the ally color. Someone to depend on, someone who could help.”

“So in the memories before; Malik or Leonardo would be blue.”

Desmond gave a smirk at Shaun's putting himself in the same category as possibly the closest friends of his ancestors. Of course, it wasn't inaccurate.

“I never really used it on Malik; I knew- I mean, _Altair_ knew he was an ally without checking. But yeah.”

“And she'd never been red before the vault? Maybe Juno was … affecting your vision somehow?”

“That's what I thought, but if there was other evidence... It really shook me... wait.”

“What?”

“I just remembered I'd put it out of my mind; when we were at Monteriggoni- I saw red footprints going into town. I thought it was just... some sort of mental glitch. Everything was pretty screwy then. And I'd never seen anything like it before. But Lucy'd gone into town for supplies.”

Shaun's face looked pinched and kind of sick.

“I don't like the sound of that, mate.” He stood up and started pacing, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head as he thought, clearly reviewing information he had. Desmond started picking at the sandwich. It felt like he hadn't eaten in ages, but it was hard to make himself do so. Of course- he had the memory on the tip of his tongue of venison and home brewed beer, which made turkeyham a lot less appealing.

“If only there was a way we could know for sure.”

“Well, we could just ask her.”

“Oh brilliant, Desmond, that's going to be really effective. 'Say, Lucy, I know you're an expert liar and could kill me with your hands tied behind your back, but by any chance are you playing double agents?' Brilliant plan. I can see why we're all excited about your brain. Hey wait, where are you going?”

 

Lucy was talking to Rebecca when he entered the main room, but when he and Shaun reentered, she looked at him.

“I remember you being red.” He said quietly, and Lucy stared at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sounding concerned. “What are you talking about?”

“I need to know, whose side are you on?”

“What? Desmond- we don't have time for this.”

“You're right.” he nodded. “We don't. Lucy...” Desmond brought up the Apple, and light blazed, brightening the room. “Tell me the truth.”

 

Air was forced out of her lungs and she stiffened. Desmond pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew what it felt like to fight against the Apple, and part of him was dying to use it on someone- someone he liked- like this; but it wasn't enough to like her. He had to be able to trust her.

He heard Rebecca's yelp, but it was hushed by his father- hell maybe he was good for something.

“I...” Lucy's voice choked out of her. “I reported back to them. Freedom to chose means chaos, Desmond, people hurting each other. I'm sick of it, sick of the lies that tell the truth and the truth that's nothing but pain. My entire life, I've been an Assassin, and all it's gained me is pain and hard work. I believed for the longest time that we were right- but it's not working. Maybe it's time for something else. Desmond stop you're _hurting_ me, it's hurting you-”

“Boy-” Desmond jerked at the sound of that voice. “Put her down. You do not understand.”

 

The visions of his ancestors had returned.

 

Haytham Kenway did not look amused by this situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoy Desmond sniping at his dad too much. 
> 
> I am personally really interested in the possible parallels between Lucy and Haytham and look forward to exploring them.


	3. Templars and Assassins

Desmond lowered the Apple, and Lucy covered her mouth with her hands, horrified. She sank slowly to her knees and looked around the room, but didn't make eye contact with anyone. Rebecca bit her lip and watched as Desmond turned to empty air.

“I don't want to hear anything from _you-”_

“I am as much a part of you as any of them, you cannot ignore me simply because I turned my back on the Assassin's naive philosophy.”

“Why is it when people want to dismiss something they don't agree with, they call it childish?” Desmond demanded.

“I didn’t say it was childish, I said it was naïve. You, however, are acting like a child. You care about her, and you are hurting her with Precursor trinkets, robbing her of her will- you will have to forgive me if my adult perspective fails to see that as a legitimate course of action.”

“Shut up!” He jabbed a finger at him “I don't want to hear that from you.”

“At least I ran _to_ something, when I left the Assassins. I believed in something.”

“You betrayed your family-”

“My family betrayed me. I'm sure you know the feeling.” He nodded towards William, who was just staring at Desmond completely confused.

 

“Desmond?” Shaun asked, and his touch was grounding on Desmond's back. “Who is it? Who's there/”

“Who else? Haytham Kenway.” And he was _right._ Desmond swallowed, shaking and fighting the urge to throw the Apple as far away from himself as possible. Was the trap still there? Would it keep goading him until he killed Lucy? And once that was done, would the others be next? He buried his face in Shaun's shoulder.

“Well fuck, that's less than convenient then.”

“What the hell are you talking about Shaun?” William wanted to know. “Why is Desmond yelling at people who aren't there- and why are the three of you _calm_ about it?”

“I'm not calm.” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I wasn't calm about it before.”

“Then you explain. And explain why I didn't already know about it.”

“Well you didn't care about him screaming in the night and crying, so we didn't bother telling you when he _stopped_ , Bill.” Shaun rolled his eyes, and pet the back of Desmond's head. The hair they'd kept close cropped was velvety soft, and nice to touch, anyway.

“Desmond- started seeing..” Lucy was trying to explain it. “I don't know, but he thought he was talking to his ancestors. Like they were there. There was... some circumstantial evidence to back it up, and like Shaun said, it seemed to make the bleeding effect easier on him. And more effective in his training, and in the animus, so we decided just not to mention the fact.”

“Really.” He bit the word off.

“It's true.” Rebecca chimed in.

“And you believe this.”

“Yeah, Bill. I do.” Shaun said defiantly. “I believe Desmond; isn't that what we're all doing? Believing in him?” Desmond's hand fisted in Shaun's sweater, and he hid the apple away in his pocket again.

“I haven't checked out.” He mumbled. “I'm still here. I'm just IGNORING YOU HAYTHAM KENWAY.”

“Oie, Desmond, he's not deaf, I'm sure, and I don't want to be.” Shaun gave his back another pat.

“Miss Crane, does this affect his performance in the Animus.”

“Made it more effective.” she admitted after a moment, not meeting Bill's eyes, fiddling instead with a communication device she'd been tinkering with.

Desmond stood up.

“Well at least if I go back in, I won't have to _listen_ to him.”

“And you claim to be a man grown.” Kenway's voice was thick with scorn, but he disappeared, clearly sulking himself.

Desmond flinched. A pity Haytham wasn't in his father's head. They deserved each other.

 

He took a step towards the animus.

“Wait.” Bill raised his hand. “We do need this; but more importantly, we have something else to deal with.” He turned to look at Lucy, who hadn't stood up, legs still weak from Desmond's turning the apple on her. “So... a templar in our midst. How many of our brothers did you lead to their deaths? Would you report back to your masters?” She looked down at her hands, unable to answer. The defeated body language was heart breaking to Desmond. She was... still Lucy. Shaun and Becca both looked away from her, and Becca was... crying, silently, but there were tears.

“You gave us good information when you were in Abstergo- we never would have extracted Desmond without you. But we can't have traitors.”

He almost didn't comprehend what was going on until William's hand drew back. He threw himself forward and blocked William's blade with his own, interposing himself between his father and Lucy. He locked the blades together and held steady.

“No.”

“Desmond, what?”

“she didn't answer my question.” He tipped his head. “Lucy. Whose side are you on?”

“Yours.” She said, sounding choked.

“You have no way to guarantee that. She said so herself, she doesn't believe in our cause.”

“No- but she doesn't want the world to burn, does she? Anyway _I_ don't believe in your cause.” Desmond pointed out.

“What?”

“I'll follow the Creed. But not you.”

“What- you- _fine_.” He jerked his hand back, blade sheathing. “The baby can have his teddybear.” He turned his back on them both. “That's not even a surprise.”

“Why did you do that?” Lucy asked. “I thought...”

“I paid a lot to keep you alive Lucy.” Desmond said looking down at her. “You saw them in the vault.”

“I saw something.” she admitted. “But...”

“You've felt the Apple now-” he didn't even apologize for turning it on her. It would be pointless. “That's the kind of order that the Templars would inflict. A peaceful solution would have just... I don't know fucking hired me, not kidnapped me and drugged me silly.” He knelt down with her. Behind them Rebecca scrubbed at her cheeks and went back to her work. Shaun rested his hand on her shoulder, watching both Desmond and Lucy for a long moment, then returned to his study of the wall.

“Ask her.” Clay was beside him. “About me.”

“Clay. Clay Kaczmarek. Subject Sixteen.”

she looked at him shocked.

“We knew each other. Before she went undercover.”

“You knew him, right?”

“Yes.” She said hesitantly.

“You saved me, because you couldn't save him.” Desmond guessed.

“I gave him the weapon he killed himself with.” She said quietly.

“That's true. She didn't mean to. I pick pocketed her.”

“He stole it from you.”

She shook her head, confused.

“I had it because I knew he would. I couldn't take... watching him be tortured any more. I wanted to save him. I couldn't free him, but he could free himself.”

“That's not a Templar talking. Desmond said, and put a hand on her cheek.

“No. Just me.”

“Just Lucy. I think... right now, I feel pretty sympathetic to you, Desmond.”

“Oh?”

“You have all these voices in your head, telling you to be different people.” She bit her lips together. “I don't know who I am any more.”

“I think... that Clay would tell you, if he was here, he felt rescued.” Desmond said after a long moment. “Some things are worse than death.”

“Which is what we're driving you towards.” Lucy pointed out.

“I'm doing okay.”

“You're yelling at dead Templars.”

“Well, there aren't any live ones here.”

she cocked her head and gave a weak laugh.

 

“Have you been mad long?” came the dry question, and he looked across the platform to see Haytham standing at a near perfect parade rest; looking as though he was waiting for something. It was similar to the waiting posture Bill had adopted and it infuriated Desmond.

“Shut _up_ , Kenway.” Desmond snapped.

Lucy gave him a bemused, helpless look. He tried to smile reassuringly, and settled back into the padded frame.

 

Desmond was prepared to become Kenway again, but instead he found himself in the form first of the native woman Ziio whom Kenway had loved and the seasons flickered past. And then, he was a child. Disite the sting of his father's- and Haytham's words, Desmond took pleasure in synching in a quiet peaceful moment of young Ratonhnhaké:ton's life. Clearly the boy was important; or would witness something important, or the animus wouldn't lead him there. And since he hadn’t' re-synched with Haytham, he kind of assumed that the Native boy was his son.

 

The peace didn't last, and was shattered, and he grew up fast, strong and broad. Desmond found it hard to relate to his stalwart, big hearted, trusting and incredibly direct nature, however. Ratonhnhaké:ton was stoic, but quick tempered; and not given to logic where emotion could lead him faster. Not a great trait in a young assassin. But he was dedicated, and gave himself to his training, even if he didn't get along well with his instructor, who gave him the name Connor to use instead, something that he took too readily enough. The use of a psudo name, and the brief stint in prison had him the closest he'd ever been to truly identifying with the native assassin.

Desmond suspected that if he'd paid attention to his American history books, he would have had a giant headache.

Still- it was something to see the Signing of the declaration of Independence. He couldn't help but feel a tiny thrill of pride in seeing it, but was more than willing to blink himself back into his own body when called by Rebecca and Shaun.

 

“What's up?

“Shaun's found another one of those power sources.” William said. “We're going to to get it. I've asked Rebecca to charter a flight for us.”

“A flight?”

“It's in Brazil.”

Another detail caught up with him. “I'm going?”

“Well,” Bill said looking a bit amused “I'm hardly going to send Lucy.”

Lucy looked pained behind his back.

“Shaun is staying here, to keep decoding what he can, the rest of us are going. Including you. It's time you show everyone what you can do.”

“Though maybe a little less bloodshed, yeah?” Shaun suggested.

“Don't worry.” Desmond said. “I learned from some old fashioned guys. Blade is stayed from the flesh of the innocent. I promise.”

“Just be careful; it would be a lot worse than just a desynch if you make a mistake out there.”

Desmond dropped a hand to Shaun's shoulder, and gave a reassuring squeeze.

 

It felt weird to be out of the animus for so long- the flight itself took a fair distance, even though it was a chartered flight.

“Desmond, stop that.” Lucy said from where she was sandwiched between Bill and Rebecca. Rebecca was doing something on a laptop and Bill was asleep- or at least he looked asleep.

“Stop what?”

“You've been mumbling to yourself for ten minutes, trying to pronounce Connor's Indian name.”

“And?” He gestured, indicating the lack of anything important they needed to do.

“Alright carry on then.”

Desmond rubbed his face, and gave it another shot.

“You're making a fair try of it.”

“I don't want to talk to you.” he growled as Kenway settled beside him. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, and looked at a brainless magazine, not making eye contact. After a moment Desmond asked. “Can you say it?”

“I never tried. The boy had adopted a perfectly good Christian name; if perhaps not one I would have chosen for him if I'd known about his birth.”

“You didn't?”

“Ziio cut ties with me before I knew. My time with her was... very brief. Far too short.” He looked genuinely sad about that, and stared into the distance. “No one can see me or hear me but you, can they?”

“No.”

“Ah. I thought so. And you have no wish to talk to me, because of where my allegiance lies.” Haytham said reasonably. “Perhaps the goals of the Templars now are more... tempered with personal glory. But we- they- want the good of the people.”

“Are you trying to convert me? Not going to accomplish much.”

“I'm in a rather powerless position.” Haytham admitted. “I could, I suppose, kill you. But that would do no one any good, except perhaps me; without your presence I doubt I'd persist.” His expression was pensive.

“Do you remember being dead?”

“I remember dying.”

Desmond decided not to push that.

“This happened before?” Haytham asked.

“Yeah.” To his surprise, Desmond found himself telling Kenway about his ancestors- perhaps even their shared heritage, though he did focus more on his actual interactions with them. Unlike Altair or Ezio, Haytham seemed somewhat confused by his existence, though not mystified by the modern world.

“Ezio Auditore...” he murmured, sounding a little impressed. “A legend among the Assassins.”

“He was... a good guy.” Desmond found himself nodding off. It wasn't as if he slept in the animus, after all, and it was a long flight. “Kind of a brat, but... he loved me. It was nice.”

 

When he woke up as the flight landed, Haytham was gone. Desmond didn't bother looking for him.

 

Rebecca patched herself into the ground network, and William was pretty much sitting on Lucy; Desmond thought- he thought they'd managed to talk him into letting her be Desmond's backup, but the look William gave him was very much the expression of 'you'd best not need it'.

 

While he had killed in defense of their base, of himself, Desmond realized as he moved along the scaffolding without pause or fear that this was truly his first 'mission'. That he himself was doing; in fact, Altair and Ezio had been there for his last big fight; with Lucy physically beside him, so this was certainly his first solo mission, between that and the familiar-not-familiar tug of the hood against his hair, he _felt_ like an assassin. It was... surreal, to be unseen in the crowd in modern day, with women in tube tops instead of corsets.

When his target was flung bodily and bloody through a window, Desmond was shocked- more so when a man opened fore at him, sending Desmond ducking to the side while he escaped. Something in him, however, felt a tug- that man had the power source. Desmond followed, pelting through crowds and toppling over guards before he managed to catch up in a garden. Even as he beat his opponents to a standstill, something niggled at the back of his mind. He retrieved the glittering glowing device and wondered what this man could possibly want with it.

“Desmond! Get out of there, there is a butt load of guards coming.” Rebecca's voice sounded in his ear. It wasn't time for introspection. Desmond booked it.

He was always good at running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of introspection in this chapter. 
> 
> ... I really like Haytham. It's going to be hard to try not to 'redeem' him to the side of the Assassins. He's dead, after all, and that's a little late to change.
> 
> Lucy, sweetheart, you need to figure out who you are, and what you believe.


	4. Fathers and Sons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeep! I just noticed I only posted half the chapter. oh well, it had only been up for like a half an hour! Nobody saw that, right?

Back in the vault, which shone brighter with the second power source. Back in the vault and for Desmond, back into the animus.

Connor's resentful, restless attitude felt familiar to Desmond, though he had snuck off into the night, not tried to convince anyone that he was right. And... Connor wanted to do something. Desmond just had wanted to run. He would have run forever, if Abstergo hadn't caught him. And now he was stuck, and he was more likely to run to danger than away these days. Just like his ancestors, throwing themselves into danger for their causes. Being like them wasn't a bad thing at all. He echoed with Connor's frustration and ideals, but as fascinating as it was, he couldn't figure out what the hell it had to do with anything. He let the brutal warrior that balanced Connor's innocent heart sooth his need to hit something, and tried not to listen to Kenway whenever he emerged.

 

“I can go longer-” Desmond offered, as they pulled him out of Connor's memories. They seemed no closer to finding the key, after days of effort.

“No, you really shouldn't.” Lucy insisted. Rebecca might know the technology of the animus better, but Lucy was an expert on the strains it put on the body. “You need to get out, if only for a little bit, and walk around. Eat something. If you're going to go on missions, you need time outside. The animus can keep you from dying but that's about it.” She glanced over at William and continued. “Trust me, okay. I've got your best interests at heart right now. A couple of hours out of the animus won't throw us that far off schedule, and it'll help you.”

He stumbled as he stood up. Connor was... bigger than he was, broader and denser. He felt odd in his own skin. Lucy was probably right. Desmond walked slowly around the cavern, looking at everything, and understanding nothing. He thought about Connor, and tried not to think about Haytham, though with the two of them working together it was hard not to. He thought instead of Connor's trying to do the right thing, and things always twisting out of control, and felt a tiny surge of fellow feeling.

 

“Desmond.”

And then there was his father. He needed to work with him, but William drove him nuts in much the same way as Haytham drove Connor, and even though Desmond could recognize that, he had none of the humanizing moments he'd seen in Haytham to make him like him even a little. Regardless he moved over to where William was standing.

“I can't stay here any longer, Desmond.” William said. “ we're running out of time. I'm going to go and try and track down more of those power sources, do what we can other than this. Abstergo's satellite launch is still scheduled for the same day your Precursor prophecy is talking about- we're going to see about preventing that. It's better to have multiple plans after all. Maybe we can find the key through conventional means; you haven't caught sight of it.”

“There's something there, something important. Connor is linked to this site, I'm sure of it.”

William nodded, and turned to walk away, heading up out of the cave without saying goodbye.

“Safety and peace.” whispered Desmond. It wasn't for his father. Bill was a horrible father. It was for an Assassin, a brother, on a mission.

 

While Lucy swore it was on his schedule, not hers, but if he tried to get close to the animus within an hour of his designated 'break' she would chase him off. He was pretty useless in trying to analyze information they'd gathered, so all he could do was roam the caves- which with the second power source had shown to be more like ruins than it had first appeared and talk to the voices in his head. Or watch them pace. Haytham was quite agitated by something, but wasn't really sharing.

'This entire situation is absurd.”

“Yep” Desmond agreed.

“In all honesty, _I_ am not convinced I am not a figment of your imagination.” Haytham said, exasperated.

“That actually makes me more sure you aren't.”

“Really? What is your reasoning in that?”

“A delusion would be more insistent on his own existence.”

“I see.”

“Besides, if you're a delusion, then so were they, and I'm just not prepared to entertain that possibility.”

“As logic goes, that isn't very sound, you realize.”

“Yeah.”

“Don't worry Desmond, being crazy isn't all bad.”

Desmond laughed, and looked up. Clay had reappeared for the first time in days.

“And where have you been?” Desmond asked Clay, amused.

“Right here. Trying to hack the cave, like you suggested.” He glitched a bit in place. “I don't have it; not yet, but I think it's possible. It's like the entire thing is made up of circuit board.”

“Who are you talking to?” Haytham asked, cocking his head. Desmond looked between them slowly.

“You can't see him?”

Haytham rolled his eyes, and sighed. “If I could see anyone, I wouldn't be asking now would I?” He cleared his throat, clearly making up his mind about something. “At any rate, I would like to request your assistance.” Clay started taking testing pokes at Kenway, only to discover he couldn't touch him. Disturbed, he disappeared in a fizzle of pixels. Desmond shook his head and focused on Haytham, who gestured back towards the main cave and led him back.

“Come again?”

“The young lady.” he nodded towards Lucy. “She's troubled, and I would like to speak to her. As this is not classically possible, I need your assistance to do so.”

“Yeah, that's not happening.” He sat down picking a chair from which he could watch the room.

“Exactly what do you think I'm going to do? I can hardly scheme with her with you being a chaperone, and frankly, my arguments would be less than persuasive filtered through your banal vocabulary.”

“Do you think you could not treat me like an idiot when asking for a favor?” Desmond asked. “Just a thought.”

wearily, Haytham rubbed a hand over his face.

“My apologies, Desmond.”

“You're dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” he seemed surprised.

“You sound so reasonable.”

“It's hard to remember I'm a close minded fanatic, you mean?”

“Liar.” growled a voice in the dark.

“HOLY SHIT.” Desmond fell off his chair, and waved off help when Lucy started to stand up. He stared into the shadows, and managed to pick out the dim form of Connor. “I have been waiting for you to show up for the last _week._ ” he said, trying to reclaim some dignity.

“He's been here for the last three days at least.” Haytham told Desmond. “You're not very observant, I'm afraid.”

“You really are incapable of having a conversation without belittling someone aren't you?” Connor demanded.

“And what exactly have you been doing? Lurking around and sulking like a child?”

Desmond pressed his hand over his eyes. A hand tapped his shoulder and he looked up.

“Connor show up?” Rebecca asked, offering Desmond a can of soda.

“Yep. Apparently he's been watching for a while.” He sighed, and popped the tab. “I _really_ miss Ezio and Altair. It is a sad fucking thing when Altair is friendly company.”

“Well, I owe Shaun a beer.” she shook her head. “He said there was no way there wasn't a ghost Connor around.”

“Good for Shaun.”

“Honeymoon over?”

“What?”

“Did you two have a fight about something, because you were really close for a while now, and now it's like you're avoiding him.”

“I am?” Desmond blinked and thought over the last few days in his brief pauses, he hadn't gone near Shaun and Shaun was busy at the door, or gate or whatever. He rubbed his face. “Well fuck. I think I've been avoiding him for the same reason I liked Haytham when I first saw him. The accent.”

“They aren't even the same accent.”

Desmond stared at her, and she tapped her earphones.

“Hey, audiophile. There's a lot of subtle things you can learn if you listen.”

“I feel uncultured.”

She rubbed a hand over his head. “Nah, you just focus on different things, is all. Besides, you're kind of distracted, if you didn't even notice you were avoiding Shaun.”

Desmond started laughing.

“What, did I say something funny?”

“No- it's just that Haytham just said the same thing about me. That I'm not very observant.”

“Don't worry.” She said with a grin, and another head rub. “You've got other great traits. For one thing, even after everything I could grate cheese on your abs.”

Self consciously, Desmond ran his fingers over his torso, dipping inside his sweatshirt.

“Hey, fat jokes aside, I liked it when there was more to me than skin and bones.” He jumped a little when her fingers joined his rubbing across his teeshirt and ending not with a grope, but a tickle.

“Fishing for compliments Des?” she laughed. “Go talk to Shaun, before one of you starts sulking. By the time you're done, I'll have talked Lucy into letting you back and we can get back to looking for the Key.” She looked blankly where Desmond was staring. “Since I doubt those two will be willing to tell you where it is.”

“I think it might be faster to just keep looking with the animus.” Desmond agreed with a gusty sigh, and extracted himself from Rebecca's friendly mauling. “Hey-”

“What?” She was turning away to get back to her own work.

“Thanks.” he said. She grinned, the light reaching her eyes.

 

Desmond strolled away, leaving Haytham and Connor to continue their argument; if what he'd seen as any indication, it might go on for a while, since they had nothing to distract them.

Shaun didn't look up when Desmond came up behind him.

“Rebecca's kind of amazing isn't she?”

“Well, yes, I suppose she's a fine example of how the human body can adapt to hyper-doses of low grade stimulants given time.” he still didn't look up, and Desmond dropped to his knees behind him and put his arms around him

“What the- Desmond get off-”

“Can't. I'm hug deficient. It's an important nutrient I need to stave off insanity. With Ezio gone I have to get it somewhere.” it was plain that it was a joke, and Shaun stopped struggling after a moment. “You're amazing too, you know.”

“... did you have an aneurysm and no one told me?”

“Also, Rebecca owes you a beer.”

“Really now.”

“Yes. Haytham said, like the helpful bastard he is that Connor's been lurking around for days, but apparently Kenway's attempt to chat up Lucy pulled him out of hiding.”

“He wanted to _what_?”

“He wanted to talk to Lucy.” Desmond shrugged, arms still draped over Shaun's shoulders, and pressed against his back. “I turned him down, and he was absolutely sure that it was because I thought he was an evil Templar, not because it's a bitch and a half to play translator, and Lucy doesn't believe he's real. I'm just letting him believe that.”

 

Shaun laughed shaking his head. “Kind of a dick move, don't you think?”

“I'll tell him someday, if he doesn't figure it out.” It was kind of revenge for Haytham's belittling, but Desmond didn't mind being a little petty.

“So what's he doing now?”

“Arguing with Connor. If I wanted to watch that, I'd go back into the animus and get something done.”

“It's the historian's curse really.” Shaun admitted. “Realizing that brilliant historical figures were, in the end, just people.”

“You want me to look for more of those almanac pages don't you?”

“If you could. Franklin is just entertaining. It's as likely as anything to bring us a lead.”

 

Heading back towards the chair, he stopped and just shook his head, looking at the still quarreling pair.

“What are you watching, Des?” Rebecca asked.

“Perspective. At least Bill and I are on more or less the same side. It's the difference between a cold war and open combat.”

“They're still fighting?”

“Yelling mostly. Lots of chest poking.”

“About what?”

“Let's see. … okay Haytham just said 'My convictions are no less solid and true than yours, simply because they oppose your own' and Connor retorted 'I could say the same' Pretty good argument actually. I could play bingo with Haytham's buzzwords. Yup, there goes a naive.”

Rebecca laughed.

“Hey, do you remember when Altair did that thing with the animus?”

“Yeah?” Desmond looked at her.

“I was thinking I could build a device to _just_ do that. Hook into your brainwaves, and project voices.”

“You can do that?”

“Well, there's a certain chance we'll end up hearing your inner monologues...” She gave a sideways grin.

“No, really, you can build a device that reads minds?”

“... Des, what do you call the animus?” She tossed back the rest of her soda. “It's possible. I don't think it'd work on most people, so it'd be useless for well, anything other than projecting the voices of your ancestors. I mean, imagine a machine that could hook into people's subconscious and project what they were thinking? It would be the ultimate interrogation technique. This is more like... using your eardrums, because you hear them.”

“Honestly?” Desmond said after a moment's thought. “I don't think you want to.” he shook his head again. “Alright, I can't take this any more.”

Rebecca watched him head towards an empty space a few feet away.

“Well I certainly do right now.” she sighed.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton- enough.” Desmond shoved his way between the two of them. The shock of the interruption got them to stop.

“That was terrible.” Connor said, mouth a thin line.

“Where was I off?”

He gave the correction and Desmond tried again.

“You can just call me Connor.”

“Yeah, I'll do that.” Desmond sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. “But can we just... not do this? I mean, the arguing? Neither of you is ever going to convince the other, and from the outside you both have points. For one thing Charles Lee? Totally a psychopath. I'm sorry Kenway, maybe he was always nice to you- but I saw some bits you _didn't._ “

“You can't trust what a man does under duress to reveal his true character.”

“No, father that is the _best_ time.”

“and all of your choices were wonderful, I'm sure.”

“I … accept the mistakes I made as mistakes. Do you?”

Haytham looked honestly surprised.

“... Some of them. But they were necessary actions, even if they were wrong.”

“Then you do not.”

Desmond rubbed his head again. At least they weren't yelling any more.

 

Haytham clearly had no idea how to be a father, and Desmond doubted he would have been any better if presented with a child instead of a man in his twenties with his own ideals. But if they could keep from arguing philosophy and creeds they got on fairly well. It was plain to see that some part of Connor wanted Haytham to approve of him, or understand him- or perhaps he wanted to understand Haytham to understand himself; or he would not have extended the alliance once Church was tracked down- but then, Kenway also seemed eager to somehow be a part of Connor's life, if it had just been a case of Assassins and Templars, he was simply too efficient to not have seen that as the simplest answer. And then, in rapid succession, Connor lost so much- his tentative connection with his father, his best friend- to his own hand, something that turned both Connor and Desmond's stomachs, and his faith in George Washington.

 

He surfaced from the memories to bad news of his own.

“Abstergo has your dad.”

“What?” This, ontop of the emotions still rolling in his gut from Connor drove Desmond to his feet. It was too much to take. “We're going after him, move-” Shaun grabbed his wrist before he could get too far.

“Desmond wait!” Lucy protested. “there's more.”

“what?”

Rebecca called up a video message. It was more than an abduction- it was a kidnapping- a ransom. Vidic wanted the apple; and offered Bill's safety- his sanity in return.

“You realize there's no way they haven't already hurt him.” Shaun said quietly. “He'd probably want us to let him go.”

“Where are they holding him?”

“The same place they had you. Italy.”

“Then we go. Lucy-” She looked shocked when he addressed her. “Can you get me back in?”

“I... probably not. A lot of how I got you out was just... shock. They've bound to have changed the codes by now, so I wouldn't be any faster than anyone else.”

“Doesn't matter. You're coming with us.”

“What?”

“We're a team, aren't we?” he demanded. “I trust you, Lucy.”

She shook her head, half confused, but then changed it to a nod.

“Hate to break up the love fest.” Shaun pointed out. “But trusting Lucy is kind of the least of our problems. How do you suppose we get in?”

“I thought I'd walk in the front door.” Desmond said with a smirk.


	5. A Stupid Plan

Desmond was so focused on what was to come he almost didn't enjoy watching Connor press his face to the window of the plane.

Almost.

He _seemed_ younger than even Ezio at his youngest, even though he was apparently about Desmond's age or a bit older. His stern face and size made him _look_ older than that, but he seemed younger anyway.

“Your father.” Connor wasn't looking away from the window. “Is he a good man?”

“...” Desmond tried to think about it honestly. “He's not a bad one. Not much of a father, I think. But that doesn't make him a bad man.”

Connor nodded in wordless bonding.

“But... I don't think I can leave him there.”

“... I do not know if I would have been able to leave my father somewhere I knew he would be tortured either.” there was a pause, and Connor admitted “for long, at least.”

“What do you think of all this?”

Connor was silent for a long time, and Desmond looked anywhere but at him to give him time to collect his thoughts, but finally looked away from the window to look at Desmond instead.

“I do not know. It seems like some sort of extended vision quest; but that was hardly something I learned a great deal about; my interests were much more in the physical world. That would make me some sort of guide for you. But I do not feel wise or learned. When I had visions I spoke to Juno; and she deceived me for her own ends; I do not know what kind of spirit she is; you feel her and her kind are not spirits at all.”

“I'd think probably closer to you than you'd think.”

Connor looked mildly disturbed.

“I mean in relation to me.” Desmond clarified.

“I have no visions of the future.”

“Well, that means we can make it and change it. They” he stressed the word to mean those who came before “say they know what's coming. That the world is doomed to disaster, and that I can prevent it.”

“That is a heavy burden.”

“Yeah. I don't know if I can; no matter what anyone says, but I'm going to try. But I'm pretty sure I can save my Dad. So that's something.”

“Yes.” Connor looked back out the window, face nearly blank.

“I thought that maybe you didn't like me.”

“You were talking to my father.” Connor said. “I was... uncertain of the situation. I was not ready to deal with him.” He glanced back. “Do not let him belittle you, Desmond. He only knew I was present for a night longer than you.”

It was relaxing to have a laugh, even a small one. It was better than worrying about what he was about to do- and what was going to happen.

 

 

Desmond walked in the front, providing a distraction for Lucy to go in the back, and hopefully start messing up security systems, and cripple possible resistance. He fiddled with his hands his headset as he strolled in casually, fighting the urge to fold his hands; this wasn't a walled city, this was a single stronghold. He reminded himself however, that just because people worked at Abstergo didn't make them Templars, didn't make them part of this. _Stay your blade from the flesh of the innocent._ It was the first thing he'd learned about being an Assassin, as far as he was concerned, and one of the most important.

 

His skin itched- it felt too tight. He knew he was being watched. He strolled towards the elevators as if he belonged there.

After all- he'd been invited.

Desmond was almost there when security stopped him, familiar batons held in their hands.

“Hand over your weapons.” one said, and for a moment, Desmond saw a cocky city guard in armor; hand on his sword.

“Thanks; I can see myself in.” He gave a lazy salute. “I know my party's extension.” Hands tensed on swords that were really batons.

An intercom crackled, and he fought the urge to look for the security cameras he knew were focused on him.

“I'd rather this not turn ugly, Mister Miles.” Vidic's voice came.

“Your call.” he squared his shoulders.

“Subdue the subject.”

“Oh you did not just call me a 'subject' again. No way I'm being cooperative now.” The Guards barely had a chance to start on the order when he lashed out, one leg coming up to knock a baton aside as the other hooked around, hidden blade extending and slashing through the big veins in his neck. Desmond didn't know how to fight- but he knew how to kill. From the back of his belt he produced another knife to arm his off hand. He twisted and ducked, taking a bruising blow across his shoulder- but on the side that couldn’t drop it's blade. It didn't even slow him down. Shaking it off, and leaving the guards lying in their own blood, he continued walking, calling the elevator and stepping inside.

“Fourth floor you said?” He murmured.

“Yep,”

“This is an incredibly stupid idea, Des.” Shaun pointed out again, as though he hadn't been saying it the entire trip there.

“I know, Shaun, I know.” He let his head drop back as the elevator ground to a halt and Vidic took the time to gloat. Tacky. Clearly, the man did not watch movies.

“Be a good boy and wait for the guards to collect you.”

Connor touched his arm and pointed up. Desmond wasn't surprised that he could simply climb straight out of the elevator and up into the unguarded shaft. Even he would have put someone there already; reinforced the box, something. There didn't even seem to be cameras.

“I guess it pays to be stupid.” He chuckled as he climbed, above him doors opened, and guards dried to spot him in the uncertain light of the partially glass shaft. Lucy was maintaining radio silence. He grabbed a hold of a booted foot and flung the guard down the shaft, swinging up and knocking two more in. He heard thumps as he dashed down the hall, and darted through rooms. Something about this felt vaguely familiar- like he'd been there before. He spotted a door that did and headed through it. Time to keep being stupid.

“Damn it, get out of my way!” Desmond yelled. Some people did, but guards ran towards him, and were trying to fire their guns at the same time. No one expected an apparently unarmed man to rush a gun- it threw them off; and their shots went wide. He escaped unharmed- they didn't, and he made it to his goal.

 

The animus chamber that he'd been held in.

It made him twitch, it was the beginning of this madness. He wondered, still seeing the glyphs that Clay had painted hidden below the stink of antibacterial soap and bleach, if finding his way back here made it the beginning of the end. He fought the urge to smash it. He'd expected his father to be there. Whatever made his DNA so valuable would be in his father too- at least some of it.

 

“Give me the apple.”

Desmond jerked away from the voice as a gun fired. Whoever was firing this one was a great deal better than the guards, one of the bullets ripping open his sleeve as he dove for cover behind the animus bed. He took a little thrill of pleasure as a bullet shattered a panel- but he had other things on his mind.

“Bringing a knife to a gunfight. It's quaint. Come back to the twenty first century. Or die. I'm partial to the second.”

Desmond could hear him changing clips, even though he'd only fired a few shots; this guy was good; and he hadn't been wearing a uniform in the glimpses Desmond caught. He wasn't a guard. He looked familiar too- where had Desmond seen him before?

“Game's over...”

Desmond's hand slid into his pocket, brushed across unearthly warm metal. The lights flickered like a power surge. Lucy.

“нет”

What the hell?

“Not now! Stop it. есть все еще работа, которая будет сделана!” He was distracted and Desmond's hand withdrew, as he slid around the other side from the man who'd been attacking moment before. “Get out!” screamed the blond, clutching at his head. Desmond moved to attack and instead his opponent turned and ran, screaming. He jammed a present the size of a SD card into a port in the animus station, and ran after him. Another group of guards let the other man pass, watching him go in confusion, which gave Desmond a chance to take them down before a shot was fired.

“No! Get away, they're all around you-” These shots were wild, but Desmond ducked out of the way, as the lights flickered again, going to emergency power. “What are you!?” He kept running; and Desmond tackled him. They rolled across the floor; whoever this was, he was a good fighter, but the brutal brawling Desmond had learned from Connor gave him the advantage. He pinned the man to the ground and drew back his hand

“NO!” Desmond stopped at that shout, and a hand touched his as the man's eyes stared up at him in terror and he started to struggle again. Desmond just stared, mission momentarily forgotten. Ezio was there.

“Desmond don't _-_ he's a brother.”

“What? How?” Desmond couldn't help it, he nearly released his hold on the other man to hug Ezio, he was just that glad to see him.

“I don't know. But look at his eyes.”

“He _is_ trying to kill me.”

“Stop talking to them! It only makes it worse!” snarled his captive. “They'll take you- они - отановка братьев это. No! He's an idiot, I'm not one of you!” His eyes flicked up to Ezio, watering as though holding back tears- was he seeing him? “Ничто не верно. Не верьте тамплиеру.”

Ezio gave a little shrug and Desmond cracked his captive across the jaw. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell unconscious. Desmond grabbed a hold of Ezio's shirt, and stole a kiss- faster than a hug, getting to his feet and rolling his attacker over, tying his hands together.

“Rebecca,who is this?”

“I think.. it's one of the other subjects;”

“It is.” Lucy appeared out of the darkness, face pale and half hidden in the dark blue of the hood she was wearing. “Subject Four.” she supplied “Daniel Cross.”

“Did I hear you say 'Ezio'?” came Rebecca's voice again, excited.

“Yeah he's back-” Desmond looked around “... he's gone. Damn it.”

“I cannot feel another.” Connor offered, appearing from no where. He looked highly uncomfortable. “I could for a moment, but he is gone now. Get out of sight. More guards are coming. Fighting inside like this is dangerous. There is no where to hide or run or dodge.”

“Yeah. I know.” Not having anything else to do, he yanked Cross's arms up and started to tie them.

“Desmond-” Lucy said. “Kill him.”

“If he's an assassin...”

“No, he never was, he's Bled is what he is. He is the Templar's Assassin. He was their man, through and through. Kind of like Haytham Kenway, but _crazy._ We can't let him live, he'll just come after us.” She looked nervously around, then flicked her own knife out.

“Lucy _no_!”

“We don't have time for this; you want to rescue him somehow?”

“Yes, that's _exactly_ what I want.”

“Him or your father? Because I doubt you could do _both._ ”

“No, but _we_ can.”

“The other Assassins are not going to be happy about this.”

“Yeah, their turn.” He frowned. “Connor, are you with me?”

“Yes. But I do not know what I can do for you.”

“See if you can touch this guy.” Desmond stepped away, and Connor knelt beside Cross. Lucy gave a noise of distress as his clothes ruffled, and a knife Desmond had missed flipped out of a hidden sheathe and onto the ground.

“Yes. I do not think I can carry him, but I can touch him. He feels hot Desmond, as though he's fevered. He is not well, like a sick dog.”

“Well that's something.”

The intercom crackled and Vidic didn't sound amused. The lights flickered again, like they were about to go back on. Whatever Lucy had done, they were fixing it.

“Stop playing games Mr Miles- or do you not care what happens to him?”

“Lucy, I don't think they know you’re here. Let's keep it that way. Connor can help you carry him out.”

She started to protest.

“They're going to get everything back up in a minute. Don't worry. I can handle this.” He touched his ear piece. “Where's Vidic, Becca? I'll bet he's got my father with him.”

“One floor up, fifth floor.” Lucy looked like she was going to protest, and he stole a kiss. Then she just looked shocked.

“ _Su, bella assassino._ ” Desmond picked up the gun he'd taken from Daniel and headed off.

 

 

He managed to make it to the fifth floor before the lights came back on.

“There you are! I see you. What did you do to Daniel?”

“What do you think I did?” A guard rushed him and he fired the last bullet in the chamber of Cross's gun straight into his chest. It felt... sick. He put it away and took out the others with quick blows of his knife.

“You _killed_ him? What did you do, stuff him behind a tapestry? He was full of so much potential so much promise, like a son, almost.”

Desmond ignored the prattle, as the Templar scientist went on and on, heading down the hall, scattering guards behind him.

“Damn it, you don't have to die!” He bellowed at the guards. One or two seemed to change their minds, hesitate, and the secretary, huddling behind the desk, hit a button, opening the doors to Vidic's office. Desmond pointed, staring in, and saw her flee out of the corner of his eye.

 

His father was tied to a chair, and surrounded by guards, Vidic stood behind his desk, and a power source- like the one he'd found in the cave; like the one he'd gotten in South America, sat beside a computer there. Desmond strode in, and felt the guns train on him. Vidic sneered at him.

“Not so fast, I think you'll find I'm in control here. Give me the Apple...”

“You want the Apple?” it gleamed in his hand as he pulled it out. Vidic nodded, smugly. “Come and take it.” Desmond held it out enticingly. Vidic reached out to do just that, when one of the guards whimpered. Vidic had just enough time to look up and see the gun trained on him before his brains splattered across the room. Desmond's eyes blazed gold, matching the light from the Apple. “Do you fight for cause or coin?” he asked. “I'm giving you a chance. Drop your guns and run or-” The guard who had shot Vidic turned his gun on himself as others trembled trying to move. One ran.

The rest died. Desmond returned the apple to his pocket and freed William, who looked haggard, and somewhat the worse for wear.

“You idiot.” Bill said as he lurched to his feet. “Putting everything on the line, for what? So you could rescue your _father?”_

Well at least he wasn't in too bad shape, if he was still berating Desmond. That was reassuring.

“Yeah. Guess I did.”

There was a pause and they shared one of the _least_ awkward hugs Desmond could remember from his father. It was still pretty awkward. Leaning over the desk, Desmond shoved another SD card into the computer console. William moved to pick up the power source, but his hands were shaking, so Desmond did instead. Not that much could break it, but it was better William concentrate on getting himself out. There was a surge of energy trilling through him, connecting the Apple and the power source. He took out the Apple, and let it out, threads rippling through the air, reaching out, clearing guards from their path, the popping sound of muted gunfire ripping through the air.

“Stop this.” growled Altaïr's voice in his ear. “Don't push too far. Don't let yourself get lost to it.”

His hand didn't want to let go. It was like the apple was merging with it, but even though he couldn't see him, hearing Altaïr's voice was enough of a push, and Desmond managed to put it away.

It had been enough. No one else wanted to get near them, and they made good their escape.

 

*no.

*There is still work to be done

*do not do this

*nothing is true. Do not believe the Templar

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cheers* I am so glad to see Ezio and Altair, you have no idea.   
> They're not back yet, but I think they're coming.


	6. To Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doing the right thing is harder when there is no right thing.

“Ah, back to work.” Shaun sounded relived to be back in the cave. Perhaps for just a chance to get out of earshot of William and Desmond, who would still break down to sniping though it was clear Bill was giving him a bit more respect after the rescue; especially since it had also been Desmond's idea to place 'information saps' into Abstergo's computers. They'd eventually be discovered and disabled, but for now, the Assassin hackers had access to everything Abstergo did. They were checking everything for possible worms, and running it through filters but they were gorging themselves on the information. Rebecca had built them, but it had been Desmond's idea, so that gave him a little bit of leeway. Which he needed, considering what else he'd brought out of Abstergo. Lucy had been right. No one was happy about their unexpected guest; least of all his father.

What Lucy hadn't said, of course, was _why._ Which was understandable given the situation. But what he did year made him more inclined to try to help him; despite the fact that he'd realized that it was the second time Cross had shot at him. He'd been the person who'd tried to make off with the power source in Brazil.

Rebecca and Lucy had checked him thoroughly for any kind of tracking device or listening device. They couldn't pass him off to another Assassin cell- they were all just as busy. They were on their own. The five of them, and the drugged, sleeping figure, carefully tied to a cot.

 

Lucy looked to William as if waiting for an ultimatum, an order. He looked tired, and conflicted. There were pained lines around William's eyes and finally he shook his head.

“For now, we're going to let Desmond call the shots on this operation. And that includes his prisoner.”

“Then he stays. We'll keep an eye on him. It'll be easier since we don't have to keep an eye on Lucy any more.” Desmond declared. Bill looked like he was going to protest but he thought better of it. He'd made the decision, and he wasn't going back on it.

“Alright.” Lucy nodded. “I'm the least needed while Desmond is in the Animus; Rebecca and I will set it up for the next session; and I'll watch Cross then.” They scattered to their tasks.

 

Desmond stared at Cross's face, which twitched occasionally in dreams, and wondered how long they could keep him unconscious, and what the hell they were going to do when he woke up.

“I could really use some advice, Ezio.” He said dropping his face to his hands. “Come back. I saved him for your sake.”

“Would you take advice from me?”

Desmond jumped and looked up at his father, who was still standing behind him.

“Well, I guess it depends on the advice.”

“you could have taken the order.” Bill said quietly. “son of the current grandmaster, some sort of magical hero, savior of the world...”

“Insane test subject, spent time in Abstergo, let the last one die?” He shot back and shook his head. “I'm not a leader, Dad. I know it. Better you than me.”

“I don't know how it happened, but you led this team. Lead it.” Bill pointed out.

“That's different. They let me.” He gave a shrug. “you're sticking around?”

“I want to see how this turns out. Whatever happens I want to be part of it.”

“Fair enough.”

“You probably should have killed him then.” Bill went on, looking at the unconscious figure of Daniel Cross. “I've killed a great many people, Desmond, and it's always harder to kill them when they're not active threats. Not in difficulty; that's easier, of course, but to your heart.”

Desmond looked a little surprised at that admission.

“You may have to kill him later.” he went on. “As fractured as he was, he probably wasn't as much use to the Templars as they might pretend or tell him; but he could be a danger to us.”

“Do you think... killing Warren Vidic did anything?”

“I don't know. He was one man. Yes, he pioneered the animus, but anyone could take up that now. They've had it for years. Cross was pretty much raised in one as far as we can tell.”

“Damn.”

“Look, I'm not discounting what you did- even all the things that weren't rescuing me; and I'm personally grateful for that. But It's all a drop in the bucket. It takes more than a single death to stall the Templars for long.”

Desmond thought back over everything he'd experienced, and nodded.

“Dad? Did they... put you in the animus at Abstergo.” He frowned. “Could they read your memories, follow us back here?”

Bill waved a placating hand.

“They tried; I made myself... uncooperative.” He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “If they'd had more time, they probably could have broken me; but no. At their current level of technology, they cant' just pull the memories out and have someone else sort through them. They need a medium.”

“That's reassuring.” But part of him, Desmond realized was hoping that Bill had spent time in the Animus; that he'd be able to understand what Desmond had gone through- what he was still going through.

“At any rate, I'd get the power source hooked up and get back into the animus. But it's your call.” He gave Desmond a wary pat on the shoulder. “I'm going to put out what fires I can among the order.” Something is going to happen; we just don't know what yet.”

“When it's over... can I come home? Maybe just to visit.”

“I'd like that.”

 

 

Desmond turned the power source over in his hands as he walked towards Rebecca and Lucy, who were fussing with the Animus. Connor and Haytham were having a staring contest on either side of it, unnoticed by the girls.

“So I was wondering, Des; Didn't subject Sixteen-”

“His name was Clay.” Desmond interrupted. “Unless I'm Seventeen.”

“Sorry.” She flinched “Didn't Clay say that Washington was a Templar? That's been bothering me; I mean, Connor's been working with him but...”

“Ha!” Haytham said pointing at Connor who looked exasperated mostly. Desmond ignored them, but the exchange ended there.

“that's not quite right,” Shaun corrected. “All the data he showed only pointed to Washington coming in contact with an Apple of Eden- But the portrait he referenced was from a later period of Washington's life. For all we know, Connor wasn't even involved.”

“Pretty likely considering how he was feeling about him the last time he saw him.” Desmond shrugged.

“So either way, we don't really know. Yet.” Shaun agreed.

“We'll see. “

“It's ready when you are.”

“and you'll look after Cross?” Desmond studied her face. “You knew him?”

“I encountered him once or twice. Not while he was with the Assassins. He only knew me as an Animus technician.” She stopped being able to meet Desmond's eyes, quite suddenly. “So I knew him a bit. Like Clay. But he spent a lot less time in the project center; I only had sporadic contact.”

“'Sporadic contact'?” Desmond asked. “What kind of … oh god, you _didn't_.”

“I don't know what you're insinuating.” she started to bluster.

“No seriously, Lucy, am I the only guy who got put in the animus that you _haven't_ slept with?”

She looked embarrassed and annoyed at the same time, face flushed.

“Of course not- it wasn't _like_ that”

“Hey, I'm not judging, but there is no way I am letting you out of that date now.”

“What?”

“You forgot? Connor, she is trifling with my virgin heart.”

Connor blinked at Desmond, looked at Lucy, then back at Desmond.

“It does not matter what I say, she cannot hear me?”

“Absolutely.” Desmond grinned, “He agrees with me, two dates as a minimum to make up for it. And a kiss on the first date.”

Connor tipped his head in confusion, clearly wondering what was wrong with Desmond. Or at very least, wondering what he was talking about.

“First, we save the world; then we go dancing, and you show me how to have a good time.”

Lucy started to laugh, shaking her head.

“Okay fine. We save the world, we'll go dancing.”

“Woo! Dance party!” Rebecca slung an arm around Lucy's neck. “Desmond, you have not _seen_ a party until you've seen assassins who have a moment to relax.”

“That's not how I remember it.” he pointed out.

“Farms are different. There are children there. They're for training.” Becca scratched her cheek. “Kind of extremists, if you know what I mean.”

Desmond raised his eyebrows.

“... so people who kill people think that some of them are extremists.”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.” He shook his head. “Save the world; then vacation. It's a plan.”

“Oh and where are you going to go?” Shaun said dryly. “You've been on a whirlwind tour of the world; Desmond, and you think you don't get out enough.”

“Shaun.” Desmond rolled his eyes. “You talk like you're not going to be there. Take a break from your books.”

“That does sound nice. Keeping that reference database up is hard work.”

“Someone needs a hug.”

“Someone does _not_ need a hug!”

Lucy stifled a laugh, as Desmond strolled innocently away from the girls and towards where Shaun had cloistered himself in study.

“Hey Shaun.” Desmond draped himself over Shaun's shoulders, in an easy familiar way, and Shaun smiled a little, since it didn't require him moving or invite reciprocation. He did, however, tip his head so their cheeks were pressed together. Desmond dropped his voice a bit, and whispered in his ear. “Can you do me a quiet favor?”

“If I have to take my pants off, no.” Shaun responded, but his smile said more about that being on the table than it didn't, and Desmond chuckled but sobered.

“Can you look up when the Order started using the term 'Grandmaster' instead of 'Mentor'?”

“Why does that matter?”

“It's a Templar term.” Desmond murmured. Shaun stilled for a second than nodded. His eyes slid over to meet Desmond's. Shaun wasn't born an Assassin, and Desmond had left, only to watch it from the perspective of centuries, not a single lifetime. He'd seen it at it's hey day in the Crusades. He'd seen it come back from near death twice, once in Italy, once in America. He saw it differently than Lucy, his father, or even Rebecca. And he was asking Shaun who also saw it differently, quietly, in a way that looked like he was just flirting, when he could have asked his father who was the current order head.

“I'll look into it when I have a moment.” He nodded, and Desmond twisted his head, stealing a quick kiss. It lingered for along moment and Shaun gave him a shove. “Of all the things for you to pick up by contamination, Des. It's a good thing that venereal disease can’t be transmitted by Animus, or Ezio would have got you well and truly infected. Why don't you get back to work? It's not like any of us are waiting around for you to get to it or anything. This can't wait forever. Things are getting... weird out there; you might not have noticed.”

“Weird how?”

“Solar flares. They're getting bigger, and more frequent. Electronics are starting to be affected. There have been some earthquakes. Some people think it's related to the way the flares are interacting with the Earth's magnetic field- others think it's bunk.”

“What do you think?”

“Not enough information. I'm going to lean towards Minerva's prophecy of fire for now.” He looked at Desmond seriously. “We need to get the door open. We need the key.”

“We're close.”

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it.”

“And you're discounting the whole 'psychic' thing.”

“Oh shut up.” He gave a half-hearted shove at Shaun who sidestepped it.

“Do you think you can find where to put the powersource, like you did the last two?”

Desmond looked around and saw, faintly Clay's figure waving from an upper level of the cave.

“Yeah... I think I can.”

“Get to it.”

“Yes sir.” Desmond gave a snappy mock salute, and Shaun rolled his eyes, turning away.

 

 

Clay had found the second 'battery slot' as well, when they'd gotten back from Brazil. Everyone else thought that Desmond had located it himself, it was Clay's explorations that led him there.

From where he was standing, he could see Shaun flinch back then press against the wall to watch things shift on the other side of the door.

He leaned on the 'console' and looked over at Clay.

“How's it going?”

“It's going.” Clay admitted. “I keep seeing Juno around, but I don't think she's noticed me. Your friend.” he indicated Shaun. “He's messing with some of the devices he found. Ask him about manna sometime. Man, I wish I could show you the face he made. And he's British; I've _been_ to Britain, they do new and exciting things with the word 'bland'”

Desmond laughed.

“What do you think about Cross?”

Clay's face got serious.

“I can't really tell you anything the others haven't. But-” his form fuzzed out, then back in again. “so there's hope.”

“I didn't catch that.”

“Sorry, things are a little more complicated than I thought. But on the plus side, I love what you did to Abstergo's databases. I've had a little look see when I've had a moment.”

“Rather than thinking about why Haytham and Connor can't see or hear you?”

“Yeah. Even if I was just a figment of your imagination, so are they, sort of. So they should.” he scratched the back of his head. “Gotta say, playing computer virus is a lot more interesting. And enlightening. Shaun's right about the solar flares; someone's suppressing it, despite a pretty widespread knowledge of the problems. Say you want to know the latest internet meme?”

“You're trying to distract me.”

“Is it working?”

“What are you trying to distract me from is the question?”

“I've got an answer.”

“That'd be a change.”

“Find the third, Desmond.”

“What?”

“Everybody will tell you that there's only two choices, black and white, yes and no. Look for the third.” He went fuzzy at the edges, then disappeared entirely.

“Not an answer.” Desmond sighed to himself.


	7. Words Amoung Dead Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are rushing headlong towards the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Connor and Haytham spent almost an entire chapter sniping at eachother.   
> Things are rushing towards the end now...

“Home stretch Desmond. I can feel it.” Bill's eyes flicked up, and Desmond realized, for a moment, that he was looking at where Connor was standing to observe. But he was already letting himself fall back into the memories.

“Did you see that?” Haytham demanded of his son.

“Desmond's father registered my presence, yes.”

Haytham turned and followed Bill.

“Can you hear me?”

“I do not think he can. We are ghosts to him.”

Haytham tried to grab Bill's shoulder and almost caught but passed through.

“Damn.”

“The man they brought back. He is like Desmond.”

“What?”

“I helped Lucy to carry him from the Templar stronghold. She could not see me, but I could move him.”

“Is that so?”

“Do not think it will do you any good.”

“And it will do me any good do do nothing? To stand around and wait?”

“No.” Connor admitted. “But he _is_ asleep at the moment.”

“So is he.” Haytham indicated Desmond. He held no real affection for his descendant; any he had was tempered with Desmond's difficulty with his loyalties. Haytham was in effect a prisoner in am enemy camp, and there was no escape.

“But living in dreams.” Connor frowned.

“Being brainwashed into being an assassin. He tried to leave, and they dragged him back, and this is freedom?”

“They did not start this path- the Templars did.”

“So now they're using Templar techniques and plans. Maybe they'll actually get something done.”

“Because you never used Assassin skills. Stop baiting me, what do you hope to accomplish?”

 

Desmond's back arched and his fists clenched as if he was in agony, though he remained synched. Connor flinched and looked back at him, eyebrows drawn together.

“What is it?” Haytham asked, as Connor moved closer to the animus. Suddenly he put a hand to his neck, as if something had struck him. “Oh.”

“Is he alright?” Lucy called. “The body monitors are going crazy.”

“It's uh- emotional.” Rebecca bit her lip. “Though Connor seems to have a concussion; I don't think Desmond could unsynch right now if he wanted to. And Haytham Kenway is dead.” She looked around the room nervously, but her eyes never really landed on him. “It might be interference, after all he'd lived as Haytham before.”

“So Kenway didn't have the amulet at that point; that's a problem.” Bill folded his arms over his chest, and glared at his screen.

“Well _something's_ still going on; we'll keep following Connor. Baby's never steered us wrong before.” Rebecca assured him.

 

Connor spread his hand over Desmond's forehead, and his body relaxed, slowly.

“She is right. It is almost over.” he murmured. Another hand covered his and Connor stiffened, looking up at his Father, whose eyes were closed, hooked into the memories that Desmond was reliving, of a time after his death. There was a long silence.

“You went to my funeral.”

“To kill Charles Lee.” Connor didn't move his hand. His body shook with the blows that Desmond was reliving.

“You made no attempt. You could have. You were a capable fighter. He was within your reach.”

Connor said nothing.

“I am not ignorant. Who was it you mourned, my son? Your mother, your friend? Years dead. Or...?”

Connor touched the shaved side of his head with his free hand.

“It was war, as much as mourning.” he tried to explain.

“And your war ended with the death of Lee? What happened to an idea, not a nation?”

“You always wanted me to see your ideals. To see the weakness of the Assassin ways, of accepting the equality of servitude as superior to the freedom of choice. I wanted my father to stand beside me, and what I fought for. As long as there is life, there is hope.”

“I was not wrong.”

“Nor was I.”

“Did you... ever love me, Father. Half savage assassin son, who you knew it would be better to kill?”

“Son.” Haytham shook his head. “Of _course_ I did. For Ziio's sake. For your own. That's what made it so hard. I will not apologize for my beliefs or change them for your sake, but just because we are opposed doesn't mean... If I didn't want to save you, I would have killed you.”

“I did not _want_ to kill you. Time was, I would have gladly done it, but you are a good man. And a good loyal friend- if to the wrong side.”

“And that is where we stand.” Haytham shook his head and sighed. “On opposite sides.”

“No. _Here_ we stand together.” Connor gestured to the cave. “We stand linked to the mind of this man.” He looked down at Desmond. “As he tries to prevent something more than slavery of the mind or the chaos of freedom. The forests will burn, the cities will topple, and the sea will boil.”

“Revelations.” Scoffed Kenway.

“What?” Connor asked. He didn't get the reference. “Have you not been listening to them?”

“They're looking for the amulet. The 'key'. It didn't open the cave, his 'apple' did.”

“They need to open that.” Connor pointed to the back of the cave, where the wall glistened and gleamed, back lighting Shaun as he sat in front of it, bent over a monitor, and trying to pretend he wasn't glancing over at the animus. Or rather at Desmond. “And they're fairly sure that's what the key does open.”

“Argh.” Kenway shook his head. “Then I was so close.”

“I don't know what it would have done for you. The Spirit in this cave was waiting for Desmond.”

“Spirit?”

“She appeared to me in a vision quest. She lives in this place. I do not trust her. It was she I was hiding from before, not you. Have you not see her? She flits about and watches them.”

“I can't say that I have.” he frowned “Ah- I cannot watch this.” He started to take his hand away, and Connor put his own on top holding his father in place- linked to Desmond and watching the past.

“You will.”

“You may not have liked him, but Charles Lee was my most loyal and dearest friend, I will not watch you _murder_ him.”

“It is long done, and you will.” he growled. “Looking away will not change what happened.”

Though Desmond twitched with the wounds the passage through the memory was smooth and simple, tracking Charles Lee as he kept slipping away, increasingly terrified at Connor's dogged trailing. He held his father still, watching like a spectator in his own life,though his side ached. It had ached, he recalled for the rest of his life, though he had, in time recovered enough for normal actions.

“Was it worth it?” Hissed Haytham. “In the end. Your foolish obsession with Charles Lee?”

“Worth what?” Connor asked. “He was to blame for much of my pain, even if you were blind to it.”

“ _You_ were to blame for your own pain. You and your stubbornness. He was a good man.”  
“So was Washington.”

“And you saw what he did.”

“And so were you and I saw what you did as well.”

“And what of you? Do you think yourself a good man?”

“I do not know.”

In the silence Desmond sat up staring at the pair of them then pushed past.

“I know where the amulet is.”

“Then let's go.”

They headed for the exit, and Desmond turned and looked back at Connor and Haytham.

“I could hear you two, you know.”

Connor ducked his head, and Haytham looked him in the eye. Desmond looked away first.

“Look,” Desmond rubbed the back of his neck. “I'm sorry, Haytham. I probably judged you too harshly.”

“What?”

“Desmond, come on!” Called Bill from the exit.

“And just for being a Templar; I turned immediately against listening to you- when everything I'd seen of you was a good man.”

“Well, I'm glad to see you can see reason.”

“I'm not done.” Desmond held up a finger “But you still think it's right to take other people's choices away. You told Connor that people needed to be indoctrinated, to follow the Assassins. But they have to be taught your ways too. So it's not any better.”

“So what are you going to do?” Asked Connor.

“I'm going to get the amulet. I'm going to open the door. And I hope you'll both be with me. I hope you'll all be with me. Because whatever is beyond it is a lot bigger than me; or the Assassins, or the Templars.” He reached into his pocket and put the Apple on the bed of the Animus. “Here. I can almost hear them when I hold it. Maybe you can too. I'll be back. This shouldn't take long.” He turned and dashed off.

 

Haytham reached out and touched the golden surface. The ball shifted slightly. He tried to grab ahold of it, and it slipped through his fingers.

“Is he mocking us?” he demanded of Connor. “We can't touch this.”

Connor put his hand over it, as though he was holding it, but he didn’t try to move it.

“This is like the crystal my people had.” He said. “the one the clan mother used to induce visions.”

“Does he think he's going to induce visions in us?” Haytham demanded.

“Not with that attitude.” Both of them jumped, at the sudden addition to the conversation. A young man with a light beard, dressed in the white robes of an Assassin stood behind them. Connor moved his hand, and the figure disappeared.

“Damn.” echoed Ezio's voice. “could you just~” the voice faded out. Haytham put his hand on the Apple again, letting it rest there, and looked around. When he turned back to the animus and the apple, he was eye level with a crouching figure, whose hood obscured his face. He started to jump back and a hand slammed down ontop of his keeping it on the Apple. His fingers sunk into the metal as though it wasn't real- or rather like they weren't real.

“We need to talk. And before Desmond gets back.”


	8. Blood of Eagles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the world is saved, and our heros escape.  
> (Just this once, everybody lives.)

The door opened in a growing flare of light, the wall disappearing in front of them, though none of them could really look directly at it while it did.

“I would have expected more fire works, honestly.” Desmond said, blinking a few time, and waving his hand through the suddenly open space.

Shaun rubbed his eyes.

“I think that was quite enough fireworks, thanks.”

They walked slowly along the bridge, marveling at how large the cavern was beyond that wall. Shaun snorted, and Desmond glanced over at him.

“What?”

“Oh I was just thinking about the hollow Earth theory.”

“The what?”

“Seriously? The basic idea is the earth is hollow and that Aliens live inside it, and that's where the abductions come from. Now, I've seen strong evidence that _some_ alien abductions were actually the work of Abstergo, but then we have this giant hollow mountain inside which are...” He made a gesture. “I'm not saying Those Who Came Before are aliens but...”

Rebecca gave a strangled laugh.

“Am I the only one taking this seriously?” demanded Bill.

“I'm always serious, Bill.” Shaun retorted.

“It's true. He is. As long as I've known him.” Lucy agreed.

“We're trying to prevent the extinction of humanity and the obliteration of the world and you're talking about aliens.”

“Oh I'm _sorry.”_ Shaun rolled his eyes. “I'll come right back to reality- the one with holograph ghosts that are thousands of years old.”

 

 _Yes._ Purred a voice in Desmond's ear as he approached.

It looked like some sort of malformed globe, stuck into a pedestal, and while he could look straight at it, the glow was bright enough that it cast their shadows out behind them.

“So what's supposed to happen now?” Lucy asked, confused, then jerked back when a flare of light revealed a pearly ghostly figure of a woman.

 _You are here. You have come. We tried. We failed. But you- you have the Blood of Eagles; you are the last hope. The tenacity of humans, but more._ She lay her hand on the glowing globe. _Your touch, your spark._ _Only touch this pedestal, and it will be taken care of. A spark is all I need- to save the world._

 

 _No! Do not do as she says!_ A second glimmering figure moved past the group of assassins, causing them to pull together.

“Minerva?” Desmond was shocked to see her again.

_You destroyed the device; you left! You **gave up**. _

_Do you think you are the only one who can make plans?_

“What the hell is going on?” Demanded Bill.

 _I will explain._ Minerva promised _Juno is trapped within these walls. And for good reason. We found the pattern to the universe, to divine the future, and we worked to save it- but she sought to rule it. We discovered her treachery and trapped her within these patterns._ She gestured at the walls, and the tracings on them gleamed. _We left messages for you, we tried to teach you, but you and the Templars squabbled over our leavings, and there is nothing left. You cannot save the world now; only hope to endure the end._

 _She's lying! With your spark I can save the world._ Juno screamed, the eerie echoes more inside their heads than bouncing on the walls.

 _Better it burn._ Minerva sneered.

 

They squabbled back and forth. Bickering, accusatory. Flashing visions up before them, like a shadow play to frighten children into behaving. Desmond became increasingly sure he couldn't trust either of them. Neither of their plans sounded good. He wanted a third choice- he _needed_ a third choice. But three lifetimes wasn't enough to find it. Four points of wisdom and none of them had an answer. They kept talking like there were only two paths, he could free Juno and she would save the world for her own devices or he could not and the world would burn. Wasn't there something else that could be done? Anything?

Chaos and freedom or order and subjugation. It was the battle of the Templars and Assassins written on the faces of giants, of those who thought themselves gods.

“Enough!” He held up his hands as if separating them. They actually stepped back.

_You must not do this._

“Look, whatever she's planning, however terrible it might seem today, we can find a way to stop it. _”_

she tossed her head, clearly not believing that. Juno smirked, her posture clearly 'let them try.' “But only if we are _alive._ The alternative – what you're suggesting; what's the hope in that?”

_If you free her, you'll be destroyed._

_It will be over in in an instant. You'll feel no pain._

So that destruction would be a little more personal than it might otherwise be. He exhaled slowly.

_You mustn’t!_

“But I've made my decision.”

 _So be it._ She scowled, _the consequences are yours as well._ Scowling Minerva broke apart into motes of light, and disappeared.

Well, if he was dead, it wouldn't exactly be his problem...

“Desmond no.” Lucy shoved past Shaun who'd just opened up his mouth to say something.

“Look the decision is mine. If I have to die to save the world; I'm up for it.”

“This is insane, you said it yourself.”

“You need to get out of here. Get as far away from here as you can.” He couldn't look at her face- he couldn't look at any of their faces. Lucy hugged him, face pressed against his neck.

“She's right.” Bill said. “Come with us- we'll find another way; don't take yourself away from us.”

“There isn't time. The flares have already started; if this is what I need to do, then I'll do it.”

“Desmond.” Shaun's voice cracked. “Don't let them force you to do this. You don't want to be a pawn, remember?”

“It's my decision and I made it. What else am I supposed to do?”

Shaun didn't have an answer, just shaking his head.

“Find the Third.” that was a different, unexpected voice. Lucy looked shocked, letting go of Desmond and stumbling backwards.

Juno's smug expression broke and she looked around.

“I have blood of eagles too.” Clay's voice crackled. “You may be a fancy ass piece of technology, but _so am I_.”

_What are you doing?_

“Deux ex Machina! Amina ex machina!” He laughed, a crazy sound that was more like the scraps of Subject Sixteen that they'd kept tripping across. Shaun took a step back looking around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. “ _I_ am the machine...” Glyphs on the walls glowed brightly.

_This isn't possible._

“Nothing is true, they say.” He crowed, and suddenly as large as life, and looking like a precoursor himself, he appeared. “So I guess that means everything is possible.”

“Clay?” Lucy looked shocked.

“Hello Luce.” he said, fondly. “I'm sorry.”

“No, I am.”

“Too late for that.” Clay raised his hands. “Everyone get out of here. She wants a spark? That's all I am.”

 _You are not the one I need._ She made a shooing gesture at him, and he flipped her off, then put his hands over the thing Minerva had called the 'eye'. _You should not be able to do this._

“You guys should get out of here. I'm starting to rewrite some stuff and I don't think it's gonna be stable.”

“Let me help; anything.” Desmond begged.

“No. I finally worked it out Desmond. I'm dead. Clay is, I mean. I'm nothing but... nothing but a ghost. That's why they couldn't see me.”

_Do not let him do this. Touch the eye, Desmond._

“she's afraid.” Clay said conversationally. “Because they weren't expecting me. They couldn't see me, and they don't know what to expect. I'm the third path here. It's my turn to be a hero, Desmond.”

“I can't just-”

“No.” That was Shaun's voice, and it was firm. Desmond glanced back and saw that he had the Apple of Eden- automaticly, he checked his pocket, but he remembered that he'd left it on the animus- afraid that somehow, she would use it against him again, make him strike down his friends. “Sacrifice isn't what's needed here. Would you leave us behind? Was I the only one who was watching Juno jerk Connor around?” He gave the device a shake, like a magic eight ball, and it lit up, and started to drop, only to be caught- and held, by Altair.

“Thank you,” He said to Shaun. He held it up easily one handed, pointing it at Desmond and light blazed out again, forming Ezio, Connor, and after a moment, Haytham. “You opened the way, Desmond, but I don't think that you're not going to be the one to make a sacrifice today.”

“She's trying to drive me out.” Clay said, sounding a little panicked. “Juno's been here a lot longer than I have. Get out of here. Get Cross, and leave the cave. You can come back later if you can, but for now you have to get out-”

“Pardon.” Ezio said pleasantly to Rebecca, and picked her up moving her back into the cave proper. “Put me down! I need to get my harddrives! How far do you expect to carry- what the hell is going on!?”

Connor gave Desmond a shove, away from the pedestal.

“No, I'm not going-”   
Connor gave another shove and pushed inside Desmond, features showing through his skin.

“Yes, you are.” Connor said with Desmond's voice. “We are all getting out of here. I was a fool to believe her.” His scowl looked unfamiliar on Desmond's face. “Go on-” he gestured to the rest of the team, pushing forward and shoving them along, until he passed Altair and reached out, taking the apple from him- Desmond's normal expression reasserted itself and he stumbled, only to have his arm grabbed by Haytham on one side and Altair on the other.

“Come now, boy.” Haytham said, keeping Desmond upright. “No one else is going to think of the Templar you captured. Unless you intend to let him die in the dark, you'd best rescue him.”

“Stay alive.” Altair hissed in his ear. “It's very hard to change anything once you're dead.”

At the door, Ezio was urging Shaun out with a friendly ass pat. Behind them, Clay's voice came again, more sharp edged and echoing than frazzled and staticy.

“I've got it, Desmond. We'll all do our parts.” Desmond looked back in time to see him put his hands on the globe. And the light enveloped him.

 

When they passed out of the chamber, Desmond stumbled as the visions of his ancestors disappeared. The apple shimmered, and he heard Altair's voice again.

“We're with you. Move.”

Desmond shoved the apple into his pocket, and moved to where they had lain Cross on a cot, drugged and chained to it. As Haytham had said, they were more intent on quickly salvaging equipment. The animus was supposed to teach him, to gain information.

Altair had taught him to observe, to learn, and to make his own decisions. Ezio had taught him patience and the virtues of working with others. Connor's lesson was tenacity to do what was right, even and perhaps especially if no one else would. And Haytham had taught him something important as well. Something he realized he'd seen in the other lives as well- that even his enemies were people. And even if he couldn't agree with their decisions, to deny them the right to make that would be against freedom of thought.

 

He opened the lock, and hauled Cross up over his shoulder- he was lighter than he had any right to be- but that was his ancestors helping. Light was spilling out of the door they'd worked so hard to open, casting their shadows with sharp edges. It was getting painful.

 

They scrambled up the now familiar pathway, Desmond bringing up the rear. In the cave entrance, which was now belching light, scraps of the strange pictographic circuit that laced the walls visible and lit up when they looked in. He shifted his burden, seeing Ezio helping out of the corner of his eye, and raised the apple, the grooves fitting into his palm like it was meant to be there, then lowered it, and the wall Haytham had sought to open closed again.

“No chance of a second trip then?” Rebecca said sadly.

“We'll see about opening it up again later.” Desmond promised. “But... that was starting to creep me out.”

“Your teddy bear there is starting to wake up.” Lucy said, moving in to the other side and colliding with Ezio, which plainly disturbed her, as she patted the open air. Ezio caught Desmond's eye and gave a bit of an eyebrow wiggle. Part of him couldn't believe how glad he was to have him back. Another part fell into the familiar trap of wondering why.

“Get out of the cave.” Connor said, hand on the wall. “Something is coming.” Desmond passed the warning on, but no one was inclined to linger anyway.

 

Outside of the cave the sky was dark, tinged in the distance with the light stain of a city, barely visible beyond the trees, but the stars were visible.

 

Then, like rain falling in reverse, points of light shot up, leaving trails.

“What is that?” Shaun asked, as Rebecca loaded the salvaged hard drives into the back of the truck.

“It looks sort of like the aurora borealis,” Lucy said “But we're too far south.”

“It looks like wings.” Desmond said quietly.

“It looks like we should leave.” Bill corrected, and all but manhandled Desmond towards the van.

“Do you think we did it?” Rebecca asked, as Shaun pulled her away from the driver's seat, letting Lucy take it. “Do you think we saved the world.”

“No.” Desmond said. “I think Clay did.”

 

For now, they went into hiding; another safe house; but this one was designed for recuperation, tucked away on a small island in the Florida keys. Though Shaun spent time monitoring the outside world, they joked that this was their well earned vacation; especially when first the disruption from the solar flares died away and then shortly after that, the aurora that had been visible all over the globe. Desmond had gotten Shaun to print him a picture that had been taken from space, and put it on a cork board of his own, along with a photo of Clay from the files, and sketches he'd done of his ancestors. Though his talent as an artist and a bartender got more use on the island, he kept training.

The world would not burn, and Vidic was dead, but that hardly meant that the world was safe. So he would keep fighting. They all would.

 

 

“ _So...” Haytham paced back and forth, and watched Cross's eyes follow him. “You can see me. You can hear me.” He smiled a bit. “An Assassin and a Templar... that's interesting. Very interesting”_

“ _Go away.” Cross croaked. “I don't want to listen to you. I killed the last one of you. I'll kill you too.”_

“ _No. I don't think you will.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think if I write more of this verse, I'll write short ficlets rather than multiple chapter fics. but for now, I'm more than willing to wander off, with Desmond being only moderately crazy and sharing his life with his ancestors.   
> Though at this point, he's probably never going to go into the animus again. It's getting pretty crowded...
> 
> If anyone has any questions, you can ask them, and I can try to answer them in a short fic? you know, if I know the answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd really meant to just leave Bleeding Out as kind of a cliffhanger, but then I thought I'd just jot down a few ideas of what might happen next- I'd just finished with Revelations... and then two thousand words later, I realized I really needed to get events of Assassin's Creed III straight so I knew what to change.


End file.
